Hostages to Fortune
by GunShy1
Summary: Matt's life and budding relationship with Kitty are threatened by Floyd Dunbart, a vengeful prisoner with mysterious ties to Matt's war years.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I thank Lilyjack for her suggestions on this story. Without her assurances, I would lack the fortitude to post.

" _He that hath wife and children have given hostages to fortune, for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief."_

Francis Bacon

Hostages to Fortune

Chapter 1: A Bitter Prisoner

Matt couldn't remember the last time he'd been happier to see the flickering lights of Dodge in the distance. He knew he probably should have stopped for the night about five hours earlier, but he just couldn't stomach another night on the trail with Floyd Dunbart. He had tracked the man into the Indian Territories and halfway to Texas before he caught him, and the return trip to Dodge with him as a prisoner had been far worse. The outlaw hadn't shut up once about what he thought of Yankee law in general, Kansas law more specifically, and Matt Dillon in particular, had made it clear he intended to kill him, had a serious hate for him, a hate he'd been carrying since the war.

Dunbart had robbed the bank in Jetmore and killed a bank teller who left behind a young wife and two children. He got away with a measly $500.00 and killed the teller out of meanness. Jetmore didn't even have a lawman. No question that Dunbart was rotten clear through, and Matt didn't figure the world was going to miss him much if he hung, and that was certainly what Matt expected.

XXXXXXXXXX

Matt slowly escorted his prisoner down the main street of Dodge City. As they rode past the Long Branch, his eyes started to track upwards to check the window above the Long Branch, but he quickly arrested the movement. He kept his focus on his job and his prisoner. Dodge appeared nearly deserted at this time of night, and there was almost no sound except for the quiet sounds of the horses moving down Front Street. As they reached the jail, Buck automatically turned in to the hitching rail.

It had been a long day, and Matt was glad to be home. He quickly dismounted and ordered the prisoner to do the same.

He was both surprised and pleased when Chester met him at the door to the jail. It was late and the town was pretty shut down for the night, so he figured Chester was likely already sound asleep. He was very anxious to rid himself of this loathsome prisoner.

But Chester was waiting up, and he was mighty glad to see the Marshal too. "Welcome back, Mr. Dillon. Me and Doc and all was gettin kinda worried, seein as we ain't heard nothing from you for over three weeks. I was just a hopin you might come in tonight."

"Well, Chester, I tell you, I was beginning to wonder myself if I was ever going to catch this fellow. I trailed him all over Kansas, finally caught up with him down in the Indian Territories."

"You want me to lock him up for ya?"

"I'd surely appreciate that, Chester."

The prisoner looked at Chester and laughed derisively. "Who are you, his trained cripple?" He scoffed. "Don't imagine any whole man would work for a no-good murderin turncoat like him."

Matt let out a long breath and rolled his eyes. "He's a mean one; I tell ya that."

"Yes sir, Mr. Dillon. I can see that for myself."

"Dillon, you ain't seen mean yet. When I kill ya, then you'll see mean."

Matt chose to ignore him. He'd been listening to those threats for days now. "Any trouble in town while I was gone?"

Chester followed Mr. Dillon's lead and ignored the vitriolic prisoner's offensive threats. "Uh… No sir, Mr. Dillon. The whole time you been gone, Dodge's been quieter than a church in a town full of heathens."

"At least that's some good news. You get him locked up for me. I'm gonna take these horses on down to the stable. I'll see ya later." With those parting words, Matt headed on down to Moss Grimmick's. He knew he would have to see to the horses himself as Moss was, no doubt, sound asleep by now.

Matt quickly led the two horses into stalls and pulled off their saddles and bridles. Both would need a brisk rub down, water, hay, and a generous ration of grain. Matt was exhausted and powerful anxious to be done with his responsibilities, but a man took care of his horse first and then himself.

He finished up with the outlaw's bay and then turned to curry his own big buckskin. All the time he worked, his thoughts were on Kitty. Kitty told him often enough that he didn't know much about women and he guessed she was right about that. Before he'd met her, Matt had never really been friends with a woman. Oh, he had been involved with quite a few women for sure, and he knew he liked being around them. Some of those women had been dalliances and some serious, but there had never been a woman in his life quite like Kitty, and that was a complication.

He had thought he was in love with Lee, had come close to marrying her. He had been strongly attracted to her, but he didn't really know her. And she didn't know him either. He was fortunate that fate saved him from the mistake that marriage would have been. The one thing Matt learned from Lee was that love and physical attraction weren't the same thing at all.

There were other women, but Matt just wasn't a settling down kind of man. He needed to be free, and none of those women ever managed any kind of a permanent hold on him. Then, when he swore an oath to the law and the U.S. Marshal's badge he wore on his chest, he thought that, for him, that would be commitment enough. He paused momentarily in his currying, reached up and fingered the burnished metal. For a small thing, it demanded a lot of commitment.

But, Kitty? Well, Kitty was different. She was teaching him about women, but like she said, he was learning awful slow, but he was learning.

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 includes inspiration from or references to:

Gold Train: The Bullet (Part 3), Season 17, Episode 14; Directed by Bernard McEveety, Written by Jim Byrnes

Smoking Out the Nolans, Season 1, Episode 7; Directed by Charles Marquis Warren, Story by John Meston, Screenplay by Charles Marquis Warren

Two Years Before Floyd Dunbart.

" _As soon as I saw you, I knew an adventure was going to happen."_

A.A. Milne

Chapter 2: More Than Friends

It had been raining for two solid days and the streets were a muddy mess. It was cold and wet, and Matt was looking forward to his breakfast. As he entered the café, he appreciated the relative warmth inside the crowded room. He found a seat at the only empty table in the back of the café and ordered. With his back to the wall, he took a careful look at his fellow diners, and it was then that he saw her. She was seated just to the left of the door. He wasn't sure how he missed her when he entered, but he was sure seeing her now. She was a little bedraggled from the rain and her shoes were muddy, but she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, a rainbow in a sea of gray. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. She glanced his way, and he quickly pulled his eyes down to the breakfast that Joe had just set in front of him. At that point, he made an effort to be a little more circumspect in his observations, but she definitely had his attention. He watched as Joe went over to refill her coffee cup, and she looked up and gave Joe the most brilliant smile Matt had ever seen. Nobody smiled at Joe that way. Hmmm, nobody ever smiled at him that way either. Matt took a deep breath and swallowed. Her eyes, her hair, her smile, she was perfect. A man could drown in those eyes...

He shook his head and reminded himself that he was not getting involved with any woman, not even one that looked like this, especially not one that looked like this. But despite that reminder, he couldn't stop himself from continuing to surreptitiously observe her, all the while maintaining the subterfuge of polishing off his breakfast. As soon as he managed to shovel in all of his eggs, ham, and biscuits, he got himself out of the café with haste. He wondered what was wrong with him. He had never felt so drawn to any woman, never mind a woman he didn't know, hadn't even met.

He saw she was carrying a small traveling bag and figured she must have come in on the morning stage. He wondered if she was staying or passing through. Considering he was avoiding emotional entanglements, he hoped she was passing through, because he could kind of tell that her staying could be a problem. He pulled his hat down low and headed across Front Street as he tried to put her out of his thoughts, but despite his best efforts his mind kept drifting back to those amazing eyes.

By that evening, he knew her name was Kitty Russell, she was staying in Dodge, and she had a job at the Long Branch Saloon. It was part of his job to keep track of newcomers. He was the Marshal after all. His good sense denied it, but somewhere deep inside, he already knew that this woman was going to change his life.

At first, he tried to avoid her, chose to spend his free time at the Lady Gay. He had sworn fealty to the badge, and his mentor had drilled it into him that a man could have a badge, or a family, but trying to have both was sure to lead to pain and suffering. Furthermore, Matt had personal reasons for taking that message seriously. He knew the price the badge that adorned his shirt could exact from him, and he knew the price it could demand from anyone that was foolish enough to love him.

But Dodge wasn't that big, and, predictably, and despite his best efforts, he ran into the winsome young Kitty Russell from time to time. He would tip his hat, wish her a good day, and keep moving. It would most definitely be inappropriate for a U.S. Marshal to be caught ogling young ladies on Front Street. But, despite his determined efforts to squelch his feelings, just seeing her put a shine on his day and made his pulse speed up. The logical part of his brain warned him to stay away, but every other part of him wanted to spend time with her, to talk to her.

It was also getting harder and harder for him to avoid her. His only real friends in town were Chester and Doc Adams, and both of them became good friends with her right after she settled in Dodge, and they talked about her… a lot. He also didn't much like the Lady Gay or the clientele that frequented the Lady Gay.

He guessed it was just inevitable that he would find himself sitting at a table in the Long Branch and talking with Doc, Chester, and Kitty. They became quite the foursome, and he made it a point to check on her off and on throughout his day. Seemed he was a lot thirstier than he used to be. He even told her how beautiful she was a time or two. Oh not in a personal sort of way, more in a, "Kitty, you look beautiful tonight," sort of way. It wasn't like he planned to say it, but it just kind of popped out. But the more time Matt spent with Kitty, the more he wanted to spend more time with her. Matt prided himself on his self-control, but where Kitty was concerned, it appeared he had none at all.

The night after he smoked out the Nolans, he sat on the stairs leading to Doc's office and talked with Doc and her. As she chattered away, mimicking him, all he could think was that he had never seen anyone more perfect. He told her she looked pretty, couldn't seem to stop his eyes from roving over her. She stood up for him too when Doc baited him. And he didn't miss her eyes on him. A few days later she invited him upstairs to her room. His brain told him that it was a dangerous thing to do, that he was already too attracted to this woman, but the rest of him had other ideas. He accepted the invitation and spent the whole day looking forward to spending time alone with her.

After completing his late rounds, he eagerly climbed up the back stairs to her room, and she quickly invited him in and offered him a brandy. They sat there surrounded by her things and talked late into the night. She told him about growing up in New Orleans, about her father abandoning her, about her mother dying, how she lived with Panacea Sykes, and her time on the riverboats. She talked a lot more than him, but he talked some too—more than usual for him. He told her about growing up in Texas and about deciding to be a lawman. He told her things that he hadn't even thought about in years.

He was mesmerized by the candlelight shimmering in her eyes and reflecting off her hair, making it look like spun copper; he desperately wanted to kiss her, but he didn't, partly because his head still held firm to the idea that there was no room in his life for a woman, but also partly because a kiss might cheapen the friendship they shared.

After that first night, he was a frequent visitor to her room after late rounds. She was easy to listen to, easy to talk to, and easy to just be with. She didn't even seem to mind when he had nothing to say at all. They learned a lot about one another in those first few months.

There were things he never spoke of because he didn't think they were the sort of things that a woman should hear about, things like killing and the war and even about the women in his past. There were other things as well that he just wasn't comfortable sharing. He wasn't used to talking and definitely not used to talking about himself, but she knew more about him than anyone else.

He figured she kept things from him as well, things that she didn't think he should know about. But he knew the kind of things that went on in some of the places she had been. He knew she had to be tough to survive, tough and independent and yet so gentle, compassionate, and beautiful.

The candle burning in her window was a signal to him that it was safe for him to come up, that she wasn't entertaining. There were fewer and fewer secrets between them. He had to admit to himself that he had three friends now that he trusted implicitly, Doc, Chester, and Kitty. For the first time in his life, Matt had a friend who also happened to be a woman.

But it was clear to him that she was more than that to him. He wanted her since the day he first saw her, but, if he knew one thing, it was that, for him, Kitty Russell would never be a one-night stand, and there wasn't any room in his life for anything else. He also knew what she did for a living, and he never wanted her to think he thought of her the way those men she entertained for money did.

He believed that as a lawman it was important that he walk alone, that there be no strings on him, and that he have no emotional ties that could be used against him. Of course, he didn't have to look too closely at that idea to see it was a fallacy. Even before Kitty, there was Doc and Chester. Both had saved his life more than once, and both were family to him, but a woman was different. And Kitty was definitely a woman. She was a conundrum that he couldn't seem to solve. He was a man who valued self-control, but his current circumstances were definitely testing his resolve. He wanted her, but knew he couldn't have her.

Then one night, they were talking, and he somehow lost track of the conversation, lost himself in the depths of her amazingly expressive blue eyes. He was spellbound. He kissed her, and she kissed him back, and, after that, there was no stopping the cascade of emotions that consumed him. He made love to her. And he knew, beyond any doubt, he was in love for the first time in his life. He also knew he had crossed a line, and he couldn't see anyway to get back on the other side of that line.

Afterward, he felt strangely awkward. She was his best friend, and they talked about everything, but they couldn't seem to talk about this. He couldn't figure out what a man was supposed to do when his heart wanted to love and cherish a woman forever, and his mind and the badge he'd sworn allegiance to denied him the privilege. How could something that felt so right be wrong?

Being secretly in love with a woman who sold her body to make a living brought him additional problems. He wanted to make her stop. He was a man, and, even though she wasn't his, he wanted her for himself, didn't want to share her.

But, even more than that, he wanted to keep her safe, and the business she was in was anything but safe. Unfortunately, even though she kept telling him he didn't know much about women, he did know that Kitty Russell was not someone he could order around. She had made her own way for this long, and he knew she wasn't about to let him change that, and, besides, he had no right, he had no strings on her and she none on him. Truth was, he didn't want any strings, wasn't ready for a relationship. But, when he was being honest with himself, he couldn't help but think, if this wasn't a relationship, what was it?

He didn't even know for sure if she loved him or even cared for him. She never shared her feelings for him, if she had any at all. Well, he knew she cared for him as a friend, but those weren't the kind of feelings he was thinking about. He wondered if she realized how much he loved her. He never told her he loved her; sometimes he was sure she could see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch. Sometimes he thought he saw it in her eyes, felt it in her touch, but maybe it was wishful thinking.

The months passed and their relationship, or was it a non-relationship, went on unchanged. They were good friends, and they had sex, which continued to be the one thing they never talked about. Kitty worked at the Long Branch and Matt upheld the law. He kept a protective eye on her, but, with the exception of shared smoldering glances, they were the epitome of propriety. Somehow nothing had changed, and yet, for him, everything changed.

For one thing, Matt was a one-woman man. He was completely faithful to one Kitty Russell. He loved only her, and wanted only her even though he never told her and still didn't know her feelings towards him. The sad truth was, he didn't intend to tell her. It just wasn't part of his plan. If he told her, it would somehow mean he was in a relationship, and he couldn't afford a relationship.

When he would unexpectedly encounter her, it felt like his day got a little brighter. He could feel his pleasure at seeing her spread across his face and wondered if his feelings were visible to anyone who cared to look. They regularly ate their meals together whenever he wasn't busy carrying out his responsibilities as marshal. Sometimes he even finished a meal with her.

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 3

This Chapter includes references to and dialogue from Bloody Hands, Season 2, Episode 21; Directed by Andrew V. McLaglen, Written by John Meston.

One Year Before Floyd Dunbart.

" _There's glory and honour in being chosen. But not much room for free will."_  
Elizabeth Wein, Code Name, Verity

Chapter 3: A Choice Denied

He was in love with Kitty Russell, but he was also committed to his badge, and that commitment left no room for a woman, not even the woman he loved. As a man and a lawman, he had a vision of how things should be and how people should behave towards one another. He also had a need to protect those who weren't able to protect themselves from the spoilers and gunman that spread across the west after the end of the war. The badge gave him the authority to enforce his vision and provide that protection, and that was important to him.

He had long ago accepted that he liked controlling things, liked having the opportunity to make the world, well, at least Dodge City, and to a lesser extent the state of Kansas, conform to his idea of how things should be. It was kind of arrogant he supposed, but he liked having things his way. Of course he knew he was constrained by the limits of the law, but out here, he had a lot of latitude in how the law should be enforced and applied.

He also knew he was exceptionally good with a gun and could more than hold his own in a fight. Those skills made it possible for him to exert the authority of his badge and still have a fighting chance at survival. But a fighting chance didn't guarantee survival, and being good with his fists and gun didn't mean he could protect the ones he loved from the men who had scores to settle with him, and it would be little comfort to the people he loved when the time came that a chance wasn't enough.

But there was one thing about his job that he hated and that was the killing. It weighed on him. He killed a lot of men, first in the war and now as a lawman. Some men deserved the killing more than others, but he had to live with them all. Often, he didn't even get their names. Those ended up buried on the prairie or on boot hill without even a marker to denote their passing.

Then, one day that weight overwhelmed him. He tracked four bank robbers out on the prairie and killed three of them. The only survivor, Jack Brand, called him a butcher, and on that particular day, as he looked at three men sprawled on the prairie, dead by his hand, he somehow realized the truth of it. He was a butcher, and it sickened him.

He brought Brand, and three dead men, back to Dodge, and the whole way back, the man looked at him like he was some kind of an animal, called him a butcher, over and over again. He was so relieved to get back and turn Brand over to Chester. Chester even saw to the horses and the dead men. But being back brought him no relief. "Bloodiest lawman ever." That's what Brand called him.

He desperately needed Kitty, wanted her with every fiber of his being, but he was too dirty to go to her. Not the kind of dirty that a man could wash off. No, he was the kind of dirty that turned a man's soul black, that ripped his heart out and left a stone in its place. He tried to sleep but the dead men came in his nightmares, and he had to kill them over and over again. At some point, in the middle of a night filled with visits from the dead, he nearly killed Chester. When morning came, Brand somehow had a gun, and he nearly killed him too.

Then he tried to have breakfast, just him and Chester. A man ought to be able to eat in peace with a friend, shouldn't be expected to kill a man before breakfast, but Joe Stanger, a friend of Brand's, called him out. But he couldn't kill another man, not even a spoiler like Stanger, not even when Stanger accused him of losing his nerve. He was through killing and through being a lawman. They could find themselves a marshal that liked killing. He resigned, took off his badge, his gun, and walked away from his responsibility, convinced he had killed his last man.

Removing that badge, and the gun that went with it, was like setting aside a great weight that he had carried for so long that he didn't realize how heavy it was. Without the badge, the days seemed to be filled with potential, and the nights were more beautiful. For the first time in a very long time, he was at peace with himself. He even considered asking Kitty to marry him and give up her work in the saloon. He wondered if she would accept. He still didn't know for sure how she felt about him. He wasn't even sure what she would expect from a husband and what kind of life she would want. But those carefree days and any thoughts of marrying came to an abrupt end.

Matt was enjoying an idyllic picnic with Kitty when Chester found him. It started out as the kind of day that normal people enjoyed, but it didn't end up that way at all. Chester brought him his gun, told him that Stanger was back in Dodge and he'd killed Linda Hawkins. Linda was a nice girl. She'd just gone to work at the Long Branch and was trying to make her way in the world. Chester was adamant that Matt needed to do something about it. Matt argued, told him he didn't care about Stanger, but he knew deep down that this wasn't about Stanger. It was about Linda Hawkins.

As he listened to Chester, it was clear that for him, there were no options. Chester was right; it was just too damn bad that he was so good at killing. He strapped his gun back on and shouldered the responsibilities he knew he had shirked. Linda was dead because he hadn't done his job, one more useless death for which he was responsible. He reminded himself of the oath he had taken when he first pinned on the badge, and he promised himself that he would never again forget that oath. He left Kitty and his thoughts of marriage and a normal life behind and rode back to Dodge.

He confronted Stanger in the Long Branch where Matt knew he'd be waiting, knew Stanger would be certain that his murder of the girl would bring him in—like a fish on a hook. He told Stanger he was under arrest. Stanger drew, his bullet passing through the sleeve of his shirt, even as his own bullet pierced the murderers chest. Killing, or being killed, was his destiny.

He'd told Kitty he was a devil at cleaning fish, truth was he was a devil at killing men too. It came to him that he was an indentured servant to the badge, and he wondered how long his period of servitude would last. He still couldn't rid himself of the thought that he was a butcher. It was embedded in his brain, lay over him like a shroud that shadowed his life. He looked at the dead man, sprawled on the saloon floor. His expression set in stone, he pivoted and walked out the batwing doors. He'd heard vultures would avoid their own dead brethren. Maybe the same was true of gunmen.

He went to Kitty that night, his emotions raw and painful. He couldn't stay away. The candle was in the window, and he needed her. He didn't have much to say. He was bleeding on the inside, but a man didn't talk about something like that. He thought by following in his Father's footsteps and being a lawman, a good and honest lawman, he would be the kind of man he wanted to be, a man his Father would be proud of. He'd make a difference in people's lives. He just hadn't counted on the killing.

Within Kitty's arms, he found comfort and safety. There was desperation in his lovemaking as if somehow, by burying himself within her and feeling her arms holding him, he could find peace. And somehow, he did. She seemed to understand his desperation and his pain without him explaining. She held him tight afterwards. Her hands gently raking through his tangled curls soothed him. She never let him go, even when he finally drifted into a troubled sleep. When the nightmares came and he stirred, he felt her arms around him, felt her gently rub his chest and shoulder, caress his cheek. Reassured that she was still with him, he fell back asleep. He was sure no man ever loved and needed a woman the way he loved and needed Kitty Russell.

With the badge pinned back on his shirt and the gun on his hip, his relationship with Kitty continued unchanged as the months slowly passed. During his days, he enforced the law. He was tough and hard, and only one person suspected the pain his badge sometimes brought him, the hurt he hid inside. At night, she made him happy, maybe even kept him human, and then, one day, everything changed.

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

This Chapter includes references to and Dialogue from Daddy O, Season 2, Episode 36; Directed by: Andrew V. McLaglen, Written by John Meston.

Eight Months Before Floyd Dunbart.

" _A day without a friend is like a pot without a single drop of honey left inside."_

A.A. Milne

Chapter 4: The Wrong Answer

He rode into town, hot, sweaty and dusty. Chester and Doc were standing outside his office wearing the biggest, goofiest grins he had ever seen. They couldn't wait to share their news, both directing his attention to the new sign over the entrance to the Long Branch. Matt couldn't believe his eyes. His Kitty was now half proprietor of the legendary saloon. He was excited and proud for her, but at the same time he couldn't help but think that this might change their relationship. She was a business owner now and might be looking for more than a cow town marshal, especially a cow town marshal who wasn't into commitment. But, if that was how it was to be, he was still happier for her than he could ever express. She did this on her own with help from no man, worked herself up from nothing to half-owner in one of the most prosperous businesses in Dodge. Matt was justly proud of her.

He hurried to get cleaned up and get over to the Long Branch to congratulate her. He was so excited for her. A big grin covered his face when he saw her standing at the bar, and she responded by bestowing a big happy smile on him as he came through the saloon doors and hugged her. The excitement of the moment ended abruptly with the arrival of a telegram.

Kitty ran up the stairs to her room. He followed. The telegram brought news that her Father was coming to Dodge, a fact that somehow managed to erase the joy that painted Kitty's face only moments earlier. In response to Matt's concerns, she told him it wasn't bad news, but he could definitely tell it was disconcerting news for the new business owner.

Matt was plenty worried about how her father's arrival might impact Kitty and her life and even his part in her life. Kitty had already told him that her father was a gambler, and he had abandoned Kitty and her mother when Kitty was a still a baby. In Matt's book, that made him a poor example of a man. Matt knew men could change, but he still doubted he could forgive him for what he had done to Kitty. Kitty was one of the kindest people he knew, but he wondered if even she would be able to forgive him.

Despite his reservations, he made every effort to be happy for her and to encourage her to get to know the man. The way Matt looked at things, having a Father was important. He couldn't help but imagine how fine it would be to suddenly have his own father back in his life. He just hoped Kitty's father deserved the title. One thing for sure, it wasn't his business, but however this visit turned out, he was determined to do what he could to protect her.

His own father had taught Matt that women were special, and that it was a man's responsibility to protect a woman. That was one of several lessons that Matt made a part of what he thought of as his rules of behavior. His father hadn't been around very long, but to Matt, he symbolized what a man should be, and Matt placed high value on the things his father taught him. When he thought about it, beyond his Father's guidance, he also seemed to have a natural protective streak when it came to women. He wasn't sure what was behind it, but he sure had it, and there was no woman he wanted to protect more than Kitty.

One night soon after her Father arrived, Matt joined Kitty and him at a table in the Long Branch, and she told him she was selling out to Bill Pence and leaving Dodge the next day to join her father in New Orleans and help him with his freight business. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He struggled to smile and look supportive. Kitty was leaving him. It wasn't like he had any hold on her, but it still hurt. He loved her, but he had never told her; most days he couldn't even admit it to himself. And she certainly never expressed any feelings for him, beyond friendship.

Mixed in with his own feelings of loss was the nagging certainty that her father could not be trusted. Matt didn't want to see her hurt, and he sure didn't want to see her robbed of everything she had earned. At the same time, it was hard for him to separate his personal feelings from his concerns for her. He knew he couldn't come between her father and her. He had to trust her to be able to take care of herself, and that was hard for him despite the ample evidence that Kitty was one smart and savvy woman. Still, having her father come back like that, almost from the dead, could make it hard for anyone to think clearly. He still couldn't think of much to say. Then her Father excused himself and left the two of them alone.

Matt sought a neutral opening statement. "So he finally convinced you, huh?"

"Well, he's a pretty smart talker when he really tries."

Matt wasn't quite ready to come out and say he didn't trust the man so he tried to hold to neutral ground. "Yeah, I guess he is?"

Kitty seemed to sense his doubts or maybe he just wasn't that good at hiding his feelings. "What's the matter, Matt? Don't you like him?"

Well he figured she was asking, and he just wasn't comfortable not sharing his concerns. "It doesn't matter whether I like him or not, Kitty. The point is I don't trust him."

He was surprised by her response, although he should have known she wasn't the kind of woman a man could fool that easy, not even a man who was her Father come back from the past. "Now we're getting someplace. I don't trust him either, and I'm gonna need your help.

So as it turned out, Kitty had been every bit as smart and savvy as he thought. She was one step ahead of him. She never intended to go back to New Orleans with her father, already suspected his motives, and, with a small amount of support from him, she exposed her Father as the greedy gold digger he was and sent him packing.

Kitty was a woman who could stand on her own, but he could also see the emotional pain that came with having to accept, again, that her father was still no good, and that his only interest in her centered on getting the money from her share of the Long Branch. Matt knew how hard she had worked and what it cost her to earn her place as half owner of the Long Branch, and he couldn't help hating her father for what he tried to do to her, an emotion he wisely kept to himself. It hurt him though, seeing her near tears as her father left town on the stage. He stood with her as she choked out, "All us Russells are proud." And Matt thought to himself that Kitty Russell, at least, had good reason to be proud. Yup, she was a quite a woman. She had scared him though when she said she was leaving Dodge.

The night her father left town, the candle in Kitty's window was burning, and Matt climbed the familiar stairs. As always he was looking forward to the opportunity to be with her, but he was also anxious to offer comfort and assure himself that she was all right. Matt knocked on the door, and she quickly invited him in. He removed his hat and reached for her, intent on offering her the comfort of his embrace just as he sought comfort in her embrace, but she stepped out of his reach, asked him to sit. Kitty had already moved on; it wasn't her Father she wanted to talk about. She didn't even offer him a drink. His pulse rate accelerated as he wondered what she was going to tell him.

She looked him straight in the eye, "You know what I do for a living, and you still treat me like a lady, but you use the back stairs to come up here to see me at night. I need to know, Matt, do I have any value to you beyond sex?"

It was like Kitty to get straight to the point, but Matt was still dumbfounded by the question. The thing they had avoided discussing for all these months was suddenly what she wanted to talk about. He didn't expect to have this conversation, maybe ever and certainly not tonight, and he was woefully unprepared. He felt like someone hit him in the head with a board, although that had happened to him once, and he was pretty sure his thoughts hadn't been as tangled as they were now.

He still saw himself as a man apart, someone with no ties. At the same time, he knew he was in love with this woman, but he didn't know if he could admit it. Potential answers, and the ramifications of those answers overloaded his brain, and, at the best of times, he wasn't the most articulate person. Finally he managed, "Of course you do, Kitty, we're friends."

He watched as her eyes drifted downward, felt bereft at the lost connection. Then she raised her eyes, recaptured his gaze, and he felt as if those sapphire orbs plumbed the depths of his being. She took a deep breath, swallowed, and spoke as she slowly shook her head. "That's not enough, Matt. I'm a business woman now; I won't be entertaining men anymore, so you won't be welcome here."

Those words felt like a knife in his chest, and even as he felt the pain, he knew it was he who wielded the weapon. Somehow he managed a response. "Umm, sure, Kitty. I understand." With those words, he stood, placed his hat firmly on his head and walked towards the door. Then, at the last minute, he turned and, hoping he kept his desperate need hidden asked, "Can we still be friends?"

She smiled that smile that sent his pulse racing and answered, "Sure Matt, I'll always want to be your friend. You mean something to me."

He walked out the door desperately trying to tell himself that it was all for the best. Under the best of circumstances, he didn't deserve a woman like her, and, as a lawman, it was wrong for him to even think of having any kind of permanent relationship with a woman. None of those thoughts did anything to soothe his shredded heart. If he didn't know better, he thought he might just bleed to death as he carefully negotiated the steps from her room and headed back to the jail.

Once he reached the comparative safety of his thankfully empty office, he dropped down into his chair and tried to think about what just happened, but his mind was too jumbled, so many thoughts tumbling through his brain. First and foremost, he was cad. Honor was a foundation of life to him; he valued it. But using your best friend for sex sure wasn't very honorable. He figured he hadn't really done that, but he had sure just let Kitty think that's what he had done. Well actually he had done it. She was his friend and he had used her, but somehow it hadn't seemed like that at the time, but now it did. He let her think she was just a friend and a convenient outlet for his needs. Truth was, that's pretty much how he treated her.

He remembered how, at first, he tried to keep a proper distance because he didn't want her to think he was like those other men who used her. No, he reckoned he was worse; those men were strangers, paying customers, and he was supposed to be her friend. He was perfectly content to let it go on the way it was forever, friendship, sex, and no commitment. It suited him. He was a bastard. His treatment of her was inexcusable, but fixing it would require a commitment he couldn't bring himself to make. No matter which way he turned it, and no matter how much he wanted her, he kept reaching the same conclusion. He couldn't have both her and the badge.

The second thing was that Kitty might have agreed to be his friend, but even if she meant it, it wouldn't be the same. The time the two of them spent talking alone, in her room, meant more to him than he could put in words. She helped him put his bad days in perspective, helped him deal with some of the terrible things he encountered as a U.S. Marshal. He could talk to Kitty about things he could never share with Chester or even Doc. She even understood the things that hurt him that he couldn't put into words. His days were going to be a lot lonelier and his nights even more so.

He wondered what this sudden parting meant to Kitty? Had she hoped for a different answer from him, or was she glad for a reason to show him the door? Now that she was a business owner, she might not be interested in him even if he hadn't messed things up. He hoped he didn't hurt her, but at the same time, even though it made no sense, he wanted what they shared to mean something to her, the way it meant something to him. He was pretty mixed up, and his thinking wasn't even making sense to him. Seemed he wanted Kitty to love him even though he only wanted to be friends. Yeah, he was a selfish bastard. Still, he couldn't help wondering what her feelings were. The only hint he had was her parting comment, 'You mean something to me.' He didn't know what that meant.

He couldn't even decide whether he was more upset by his failure to be the kind of man he aspired to be or by realizing he just ruined the best part of his life. His emotions were chaotic and exposed. The only thing he knew for sure was that somehow he would get up tomorrow, enforce the law in Dodge, and pretend like he didn't just bring his world crashing down around his ears.

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

This Chapter includes references to and dialogue from Kitty's Outlaw, Season 3, Episode 4; Directed by Andrew McLaglen, Written by John Meston, Screenplay by Kathleen Hite.

Seven Months Before the Floyd Dunbart.

" _Many people will walk in and out of your life but only true friends leave footprints in your heart."_ Eleanor Roosevelt

Chapter 5: Just Friends

Despite the emotional trauma of that night, he and Kitty somehow remained friends, platonic friends. He still sat with her, Doc, and Chester over at the Long Branch and talked. He still had meals with her, carried her packages, worried about her, and tried to keep her safe. But at the same time, he tried to bury himself in his work, tried not to think of intimate conversations, perfect lips, soft creamy skin. Tried not to remember what it felt like to lose himself in her body, to feel safe, tried to ignore how his heart sped up every time he saw her.

When they had been more than friends, the weight of his badge had somehow seemed less, and the pain for all the men dead by his hand, or because he had made a mistake, or been in the wrong place seemed more bearable. She had helped him see the good he accomplished, and loving her had helped him keep in touch with the man hidden beneath his tough lawman exterior. He missed being alone with her and wondered if she missed him.

His friendship with her was definitely killing him, but he couldn't imagine his existence without her. He cherished every moment he spent with her. Every single time he saw her, despite his best efforts, he felt his body's involuntary response to her. He wanted her on a visceral level, but if friendship was all she could give and all he could take, he would live with it. He sure couldn't live without it.

He trusted her completely. He often relied on her for information to help him keep the law. When something went bad in the Long Branch, Kitty gave him the truth of what happened. He never doubted her, trusted her implicitly. Besides that, in her work, she often knew what was going on in the town before him. She warned him of trouble and let him know when she was suspicious of some new gun in town. When he came up against a brick wall in an investigation, he would ask her to keep her eyes and ears open and let him know if she saw or heard anything.

As half-owner of the Long Branch, she still lived a dangerous life, and he took special care to protect her, because he loved her, would always love her.

Then Cole Yankton came to town, a man from her past, and Matt was jealous, just watching her talk to him on the street, and seeing the way she looked at the man disturbed something deep inside him. Jealousy was an ugly emotion in a man, and he knew he was a fool. Kitty wasn't his, and she had a right to see any man she wanted, but he was still jealous. And besides that, this Cole Yankton sent his lawman senses tingling. He was sure the man was up to no good, and he didn't think it was his jealousy making him suspect things without reason. He talked to Yankton out on the street, let him know he didn't like his kind. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to talk to Kitty about him.

One night, after evening rounds, he was sitting in the Long Branch with her. She was so beautiful. He was basking in her presence. Then Yankton walked in, and he saw how she looked at him, and he didn't like it. Yankton asked if he could see her. Kitty locked gazes with him even as she responded to Yankton, "You can, Cole." Then she broke that eye contact, left him sitting there and went out back with Yankton. He tried but couldn't quite manage to put his Marshal's mask in place. It was stupid, but he felt abandoned when she walked out with Yankton, like a light went out of his world.

Chester and Doc went on and on about Kitty and Yankton while he tried to be nonchalant. He even mentioned that Kitty knew a lot of men, but the whole time he felt like his insides were being twisted in knots. He was pretty sure Doc and Chester saw right through him.

Then Kitty invited just him to dinner at a little Mexican restaurant at the edge of town. He thought it very strange that she chose such an out of the way place. They never ate there, but he was glad to have the chance to spend time with her alone and not as part of the usual foursome. He put on his good coat, because he wanted to look nice, like it was a date, but not too anxious, so he didn't wear a tie. They were just starting to eat when she said, "Matt, you didn't ask me about Cole Yankton."

He smiled. "No, should I have?" He was pretending like it didn't matter that she was hanging around Dodge with that fellow, but it did, partly because he was jealous and partly because he was suspicious. Just then, he was real anxious to hear what she was going to say about this man that had him so off balance.

Then, before Kitty had the opportunity to tell him about Cole Yankton, Chester burst into the restaurant and told him that the man in question and two other men robbed the bank and got away with $10,000. A feeling of desolation settled over him with those words. There was a terrible pain in his insides as his mind contemplated the possibility that Kitty might have used her friendship with him to get him out of the way while Cole robbed the bank. He knew she saw his feelings. He just said, "We'll talk about it later, Kitty," as he buckled on his gun, and he and Chester rushed out of the restaurant.

Chester had brought Buck along, so they were able to head straight out after Yankton and his gang. As he and Chester raced across the prairie, he couldn't stop thinking about Kitty and Yankton. His mind vacillated between his certainty that she would never hurt him this way and his fear that she might do it for this man she seemed so close to.

Despite a late start, they were fortunate to come on a cowboy that tipped them off to a likely place where they might find Yankton. He and Chester stealthily approached the old shack where the cowboy said the bank robbers would likely hole up. They were surprised to see Cole and one of his cohorts relaxing around a fire outside the shack. As they planned their attack, they heard his partner tell Yankton, "At least that tinhorn Marshal didn't show up."

Yankton responded, "Don't give me credit."

The partner responded, "Yeah, that girl helped you out, didn't she."

There was no confirmation from Yankton.

He and Chester stepped into view, and Matt called out, "All right, put your hands up, you're covered." He didn't know why he bothered. Just like always, they started shooting. He and Chester killed two of them and wounded Yankton.

Afterwards, Chester caught his eyes. "Mr. Dillon, that's uh… it's awful about Miss Kitty, ain't it?"

Matt chose not to respond, instead telling Chester to "Get to work." Matt promised himself that he wouldn't believe she helped Yankton unless Kitty told him herself. She was his friend, and he trusted her, would trust her with his life. The only niggling doubts that ate away at his core were his fear that she loved Yankton and his own certainty that he had used her and hurt her, and maybe she thought that gave her the right to use him and hurt him, and maybe it did.

He and Chester got Yankton back to Dodge, but it was pretty clear the man wasn't going to make it. Kitty came to see him, and Matt was ashamed that he couldn't keep himself from eavesdropping on her conversation. Truth was he hung on every word of it.

Yankton was dying, and his dying words to Kitty included, "Yesterday, I had in mind asking something of ya, a favor sorta, but, when I got close to you, I knew I couldn't, and I'm glad because things didn't work out so good."

Afterwards, Kitty wanted to explain. Matt tried to tell her it wasn't necessary, but it was important to Kitty, and so he and Doc listened. He wasn't used to these kinds of conversations and fiddled with his hat, tried to look supportive.

Kitty confronted them. "You both think I tried to help him, don't you? Well don't you?"

Matt hated admitting that he doubted her. "Well, Kitty a lot of things made it look like you did."

"I know."

He wanted to reassure her that he trusted her so he added, "But I guess I'd have to hear you say it before I'd believe it." He had already decided that before this conversation even started.

Doc added his support. "I would too."

Kitty wasn't ready to let it go though. "Well, thanks but…"

He wanted to move on, and he interrupted her, "Let's just forget about the whole thing huh?" He hated to admit it, but talking about Cole Yankton and how she might or might not have helped him made him uncomfortable.

"No, no, wait a minute, Matt. I don't know if I can make you understand this or not, but I want to try."

Matt took a deep breath. He was going to have to hear Kitty out no matter how uncomfortable it made him feel.

"Cole, he's been in California for years. That's why you never heard about him. But I heard of him and what he's been doing. When I saw him here in Dodge, I, …I didn't think at first about why he might be here. It'd been such a long time. I was kind of glad to see him."

Matt couldn't understand why Kitty was telling him this stuff. Sure, he'd had these sorts of conversations with Kitty when they were alone in her room. But he wasn't comfortable with Kitty telling him this stuff in front of Doc. He tried once more to stop the conversation. "Kitty, listen here, you don't have to explain all…"

"I want to say it, Matt. I want to say it all. I got to thinking he came here because he thought I might help him, but then he did a real nice thing; he didn't ask me. He didn't make me say no. Cole, Cole Yankton, New Orleans, I was just a girl. He was the first man I ever knew, the first grown man. I don't know whether you can understand this or not, but, to a woman, that'd make him special."

Then she walked quietly out the door.

He and Doc looked at one another. He thought to himself that women were hard to understand, but he sure enough understood some of it. Kitty loved Cole Yankton, once upon a time.

Doc cleared his throat, "That Yankton was a fool."

Matt couldn't think of what to say, so he just agreed. "Yeah."

Doc continued, "He should have stayed with her."

Matt agreed again, "Yup," then he smiled and, before following her out the door, added, "She's all right, isn't she Doc?"

Once he escaped from the confining walls of Doc's office, he couldn't help but think that he was just as big a damn fool as Yankton. Kitty was a helluva lot more than all right. He'd had his chance. just like Cole Yankton, and all he'd managed when she asked if she meant more than sex to him was, "We're friends." Hell, he was a bigger fool than Yankton, but he didn't seem to be able to do anything about it.

With Cole Yankton dead, his relationship with Kitty once again settled back into friendship. He thought about Cole Yankton from time to time and how both of them had messed up in different ways. He was especially likely to think about it when he saw other men enjoying Kitty's company, but at least she didn't take them upstairs anymore. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen to him when a man came to town who deserved her and took her away from him forever. It seemed inevitable, but he still dreaded the day that might happen.

He tried to convince himself that her friendship and his badge were all the commitment he could handle, but his badge was cold comfort during his lonely nights on a jailhouse cot.

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

This chapter includes references to and dialogue from Kitty Caught, Season 3, Episode 19; Directed by Richard Whorf, Written by John Meston.

Two Months Before Floyd Dunbart.

" _Good decisions come from experience. Experience comes from making bad decisions."_

Mark Twain

Chapter 6: Not Enough

Then the Dodge City bank was robbed again, this time by the Gunther brothers, and this time the outlaws took Kitty as a hostage. Matt tried to negotiate with them, offered to exchange places with her, tried to convince the outlaws that he would be a better hostage, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. The brothers took her from him, promised to kill her if he followed, kill her with his gun.

He had no options, knew he would follow her, knew those men had been fools to not kill him when they had the chance. It was a mistake he vowed to make them regret. It took iron control for him to wait until he felt he could safely follow without being detected. Cold terror squeezed his chest and twisted his gut as he considered what those men might do to her if he was too late. Jed Gunther had bragged to him that the first person he killed had been a woman. A man like that was capable of anything.

When he and Chester finally found Kitty, and the men who had taken her from him, holed up in a small hidden cabin, Chester wanted to take them on right away. Matt desperately wanted the same thing, but he would take no chances with Kitty's life. He knew his greatest probability of success would be to wait until morning when the men and Kitty left the cabin on their own.

There was an ache deep in his chest when Chester said, "Mr. Dillon, I just hate the thought of knowing that Miss Kitty is in there with them two all night."

He couldn't meet Chester's worried gaze. His emotions were reined in so tight that he felt like he might explode. He finally spit out, "If they do anything to her, by g…I'll tear their throats out."

As he kept watch through the long night, a coldness settled over him, and ice encased his heart. As the sun started to light the distant horizon, Chester woke up and asked what they would do when the men came out. There was only one answer he could give. "We're gonna kill em." Matt could see that Chester was a little appalled at the thought of them just shooting those men down, but after short consideration, Matt could see the realization on Chester's face that there was just no other option. It was the only way they could be sure to protect Kitty.

In the end, Matt killed both of the Gunther brothers, two more dead men, but this time he felt no remorse. These men threatened the woman he loved, and, in his mind, they earned their deaths.

Even as the echo of the gunshots faded away, Matt was at Kitty's side, catching her as she fainted. He could feel the ice on his heart melt, his blood again flowing through his body as he clutched her small form tightly against his chest and assured himself she was safe and uninjured. He carried her into the old cabin and sat with her until she regained consciousness. He re-heated the stew the dead outlaws left behind and, despite her protestations, insisted on feeding her. Then when he was sure she was all right, he left her to rest while he and Chester buried the two dead outlaws.

Matt was unwilling to take the chance that Kitty, in her weakened condition, might not be up to the long ride home, especially riding sidesaddle. He insisted she ride with him on Buck. He had to admit, they were sitting uncomfortably close for just friends, and both he and she did their best to keep some distance between them despite sharing a saddle built for one. He surely hoped she was unaware of the effect her closeness was having on his anatomy. Gradually, despite her best efforts, as the trip dragged on, an exhausted Kitty could no longer remain upright in the saddle, and, eventually, she relaxed against the support of his chest, nor could he keep himself from tightening his grip around her waist to insure himself she was safe.

He was so grateful to have her back. His mind kept replaying the terror he had felt when those men had taken her from him. On the long ride back, with her safely cloistered within his arms, he accepted the truth of his circumstances. He did not want to just be friends with Kitty Russell, and he resolved to find out her feelings towards him.

He mentally reviewed his decision and realized that this was not the first time he had reached this same conclusion, but, invariably, he would fail to act on it. He would come up with a lot of reasons and excuses to not change the status quo, most of which centered on his badge and his oath. This time, he promised himself, he would set things in motion. And with that decision, he leaned forward in the saddle and softly whispered in her ear, "Kitty, I have some things I'd like to discuss with you. I wonder if you could maybe find some time, once you're feeling better, to talk to me in private? I understand if the answer is no, but I'd be pleased to have the chance to set some things straight with you."

He could feel the grin steal across his features when she quickly responded, "Sure Matt, we're friends." Them she turned and smiled at him. "And you mean something to me."

"Thanks, Kitty. You just let me know when."

As they continued the long ride home, Kitty finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep in Matt's arms. The feeling of her warm body nestled against his chest comforted him. Despite his own fatigue from the stress of nearly losing her and the long night of watching, waiting, and worrying, Matt felt more at peace than he had since that terrible night he told Kitty they were friends, and she told him that wasn't enough. She was surely right about that, just being friends with Kitty Russell wasn't enough. At least it wasn't enough for him. Not if she was willing to be more.

When they got back to town towards evening, Matt insisted on taking Kitty to see Doc while Chester saw to the horses. Doc had been left to worry the whole time Matt and Chester were gone, and Matt could see that the long wait had done nothing to improve Doc's acerbic temperament. Kitty tried to assure him she was fine, but he wouldn't hear it. He was the doctor and he would decide if she was fine or not. Regardless of her thoughts on the subject, he insisted on keeping her overnight for observation, just to be sure. Matt gave her a small smile and slipped out the door, certain that Doc would take good care of her. He understood how Doc felt. Just like he had felt the need to hold her close on the long ride back to town just so he could constantly reassure himself that she was safe and he was bringing her home—Doc, in his own way, had that same need.

The next day, her good health certified by Doc, Kitty returned to the Long Branch. Matt stopped by for coffee in the morning, a beer around lunchtime, and a whiskey before his last rounds, but Kitty said nothing about finding time for that private conversation he had requested. With the day ending and no resolution in sight, he covered up his disappointment, finished his whiskey, wished his friends goodnight, and headed out to do his final rounds of the day.

As he made his careful way through town, looking in windows, wriggling door knobs, and checking alley ways, he reflected on his circumstances. He had struggled through these long months of platonic friendship, tried to convince himself that it was enough to be friends with Kitty Russell, that her friendship was already a dangerous indulgence for a lawman like him. But he was miserable. Finally deciding that he would learn Kitty's feelings for him had been a big step. Matt was a man who preferred decisive action to constantly turning things over in his brain, and now that he'd decided on a decisive action, it was frustrating to be stuck waiting. But that is precisely what he would do until Kitty was willing to talk with him.

With his rounds completed, he headed back towards his office. Out of long engrained habit, he looked up at Kitty's window and was surprised to see a candle burning brightly. It had been six long months since he had seen that light, and he was sure it was a sign that Kitty was ready to hear him out.

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 7

Still Two Months Before Floyd Dunbart

" _The gunmen and killers, they had no friends. It's a reminder that I'm not long on friends either. Most everybody you meet dislikes the lawman. I can't blame them too much. It's just that I have to remember, Matt Dillon, U.S. Marshal, few friends."_

Matt Dillon in Word of Honor, Season 1, Episode 3. Directed by Charles Marquis Warren, Written by John Meston, Screenplay by Charles Marquis Warren.

Chapter 7

She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

With his heart hammering in his chest, Matt quickly slipped down the alley and climbed those familiar stairs. He paused on the landing in front of her door and reminded himself of the things he wanted to say. No matter what she said, there were words he had to get off his chest. Then he took a deep breath and knocked softly.

As in the past, she opened the door quickly, and he slipped inside. He looked around and saw things had changed. There was new furniture, finer things. She offered him a brandy and invited him to sit. He removed his hat, seated himself, and accepted the drink. She sat across from him after pouring herself a drink.

He wondered if it was really possible that she could look more beautiful every single time he saw her. Tonight she was wearing a beautiful silky blue dress that made her eyes even more sparkly than usual. It was cut just low enough to set a man to thinking, but it was her eyes that totally captivated him. He swallowed, and reminded himself of why he was here.

Matt took a small sip of his brandy and couldn't help but notice that the quality was a lot better than what they used to share. He looked over at the bottle and read the label. Yup, Kitty had definitely come up in the world, maybe too far to have an interest in someone like him. Napoleon Brandy was not something that had previously crossed his palate. "This is some mighty fine brandy, Kitty."

Kitty gave him a somewhat mysterious smile. "It's been a while since you've come by to visit, Matt."

Matt offered a self-deprecating smile in return and reflected on the reason he hadn't visited. It was, at the moment, the elephant in the room, and definitely an elephant he didn't plan to ignore. "Yeah, Kitty, I guess I didn't behave much like a man the last time I was here."

"I dunno, Matt. I've known a lot of men, and most of them don't act the way I think they should."

Matt felt the implied sting in her damnation of men in general, and, unless he read her wrong, him in particular. He decided to try again. "What I mean, Kitty, is that I didn't act much like the kind of man that I want to be. I was worse even than most of the men you dealt with, because I was supposed to be your friend. I'm ashamed of how I acted."

"You hurt me that night, Matt. I trusted you, and you were a… disappointment."

Matt hung his head, tried to think of some response, but failed. The silence stretching between them was painful for him, although Kitty seemed to not notice. He knew he needed to somehow explain himself, wanted her understanding, or forgiveness, even if she couldn't give him her love. "Kitty, you remember that you asked me that night if you meant more to me than just um… sex. I answered, 'Of course you do, Kitty, we're friends.' That wasn't a lie, Kitty. You were and are my friend, and I wouldn't change that for anything. The only people in this town that I can really call friends are Chester, Doc, and you. A man with only three friends can't afford to lose any of them. And you are the only woman friend I've ever had, and that's special to me, too."

Kitty arched her eyebrow, and pierced him with her gaze. "Your friendship's special to me, too, Matt. And like I told you that night, I'll always be your friend, because you mean something to me."

Still unsure of what it was he meant to her, Matt plunged on, determined to say his piece. If she didn't have any interest in him beyond friendship, he was going to find that out tonight. "But, Kitty, it was only half the truth. I couldn't find a way to tell you the whole truth. I guess I was scared to share my feelings. Even now, I'm not sure how to explain myself, but I'm gonna try." He took another sip of the brandy, tried to think of the words he wanted to say.

"When I became a lawman, I chose to walk a lonely road. I never expected to have friends like you, Doc, and Chester. The rules were clear: Marshal Matt Dillon, no friends and no emotional entanglements. I was still holding fast to that idea of no emotional entanglements. You know, I've got a lot of enemies, and I make more everyday. I seem to have a talent for it. You've seen em come after me." He paused and caught her eyes, wanted to be certain she understood why he was talking about his enemies. "But did you ever stop to think that any enemies I make would also be a danger to the people I care about or who care about me? I wanted to protect you from…"

Kitty interrupted. "Matt, I understand what you're saying is true, and I know it's a worry for you, but what's that got to do with telling me half-truths?"

Matt took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Dropping his eyes to contemplate his drink, he lifted the glass and drained it in one gulp before setting it aside. He decided to approach the truth directly. "Kitty, I love you." He stopped and looked into her riveting sapphire eyes. "I think I've always loved you. When I kissed you, I knew for sure, but I was afraid to admit it even to myself, afraid to tell you, afraid to bring danger and sadness to you. And, I guess I was afraid of getting into a relationship. I've never had any strings holding me." Matt hesitated. All this truth was hard for him to say. He was a man who protected his feeling from everyone. "But, Kitty, I haven't been with another woman since the first night I spent with you. I don't want any other woman." Afraid of how his admission would be received, he dragged his eyes upward to lock with hers and saw tears gathering.

"Why couldn't you tell me that when I asked you? It would have saved me a lot of hurt."

"I never meant to hurt you. What I said, and the way I left you that night was wrong. After I left, I didn't feel like much of a man. You said I was a disappointment to you." He hung his head. "Well I was a disappointment to me too." He raised his head, determined to say everything he had planned. "But, like I just said, I was afraid to admit I loved you, afraid it would bring you danger and loss. But it was more than that. I was afraid of commitment. I've never had to worry about how the things I did, or the things that happen to me, might impact someone else. It's always been just me, nobody to really care if I did right or wrong or even if I lived or died."

Matt paused and took a deep breath. This was a lot of talking for him, but he wanted to make sure he didn't leave anything out. "Also, I didn't know what you thought of me. I guess, in my mind, I wondered if I was anything more than a friend to you. You never told me how you felt. Then, you becoming half owner of the Long Branch set me to thinking that you would probably be looking for a better man, someone who could give you the things you deserve." Matt stopped talking and waited, prepared himself to have both his heart and his pride crushed, but at least he would have his answer.

"Matt, I had to protect my heart too, and I did tell you that night that you meant something to me."

Matt chuckled sardonically at that statement. "Yeah, Kitty, you did, and I have to tell ya, I've spent some time wondering exactly what it was I meant to you."

"Matt, did you ever notice that you never paid?"

At that point, Matt definitely became flustered. "Uhmm, yeah. I mean, I noticed…uh, yeah. I never paid… I noticed." He remembered how he had wondered if he should offer to pay, but it hadn't been like that for him. Paying seemed wrong, but maybe it was not paying that was wrong. He loved her, but he never told her he loved her. And maybe she didn't love him. She never told him. Maybe he should have paid. Finally, he blurted out, "Should I have paid?" The answer to that question had suddenly become extremely important to him.

Kitty took pity on him, stood and walked over to him, and, placing her hand on his cheek, guided his face towards hers, looked into his eyes and said, "You mean everything to me, and I can't imagine finding a better man. I love you. That's why I never asked you to pay."

On hearing those words, Matt's entire world shifted on its axis. He stood and crushed her against his chest. Then, with his head nestled in her hair, he took a deep breath and, with a hitch in his voice, tried to explain that even though he loved her, and she loved him, he didn't see any happy ending for them. "Kitty, you know, I took an oath when I pinned this badge on my chest, and I plan to keep to that oath. I walked away once, and a woman died. I don't plan on walking away again. Because of the badge and how I see things, I can't give you the things you deserve. I can't give you my name, or a public acknowledgement of my love. If I did those things, I would feel like I was painting a target on your back. I won't always be able to be here when you want me or even sometimes when you need me. I can't even promise you I'll be here for you tomorrow."

Kitty stepped back from his embrace and, holding his gaze, asked, "What can you promise me, Matt?"

He took a deep breath, but kept his eyes locked with hers. "I can promise you my heart, my body, and all the love I have. I can promise to be faithful to you, to always do my best to protect you, and to do everything in my power to survive so that I'll have another day with you. And, if someday that's not enough for you, I'll understand if you walk away. I wouldn't need any explanations." He knew she deserved so much more, but he had offered her everything his badge allowed him to give. He hoped it would be enough. Then he remembered something else he wanted to say and added, "But I'll never stop loving you. Even if you leave, I'll always love you."

Then there was silence as he waited and searched her eyes, trying to read the answer in their crystal blue depths. Silently, she moved away from him, left him bereft. He watched her walk over to her vanity. She opened a drawer, removed something, and came back to him. Without speaking a word, she grasped his right hand and pressed something into his palm. He looked down to see a small brass key. "What's this?" he asked

It's the key to my door and my heart. "You won't have to knock. I love you, Matt Dillon."

He wrapped the precious key in his strong hand. "There's one more thing I have to tell ya, Kitty. I already told you that my Father died when I was a boy. What I didn't tell you was that he was a Texas Ranger. He was shot in the back by an outlaw he was pursuing. My Ma and I got his gun, his badge, a letter of commendation, and nothing else. We had tough times trying to make it on our own in that dry, dusty, Texas town. I did what I could to help, but I was just a boy. Ma died not long after. Losing him like that broke her heart, I think. I don't want that for you, Kitty, but..." He trailed off, not exactly sure how to put it, but thinking she could probably see his worry.

Kitty met his gaze and offered her response to his fears. "Matt, I have never been beholden to any man. I've made my own way in this world, and I plan to keep right on doing that. I don't ever plan to give up my independence. I make my own decisions, and that isn't going to change either. We'll be stronger together, but, if you don't make it back to me one day, I'll be able to take care of myself just like I always have. No matter what happens to you though, I will love you till the day I die. Nothing will change that. "

Matt opened his hand, took the precious key she entrusted him with and slipped it into the hidden pocket inside his vest. Then he reached out and pulled Kitty against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. They stood like that for a long time. Then she led him towards her bed, and, in the soft moonlight streaming in the window, they undressed one another and rediscovered the secrets of each other's body.

To be continued…


	8. Chapter 8

" _Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it."_

Martin Luther King Jr., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches

Chapter 8: Love and Hate

Matt finally finished taking care of the horses and pulled his mind back to the present as he left the stable and headed down Front Street. His eyes, seemingly of their own accord, wandered up to the second floor of the Long Branch. He smiled as he focused on the candle lighting the window.

The involuntary frisson of anticipation that shot through him at seeing the light burning in the second floor room wasn't unexpected, but he still had trouble accepting everything that went with that feeling. Someone loved him, worried if he was safe, waited for him to come home, wanted to be with him. And he loved someone, worried if she was safe, wanted to come home to her, wanted to be with her. He tried to tamp down the heat that followed those thoughts, but his body had its own ideas. It had been three long weeks.

He briefly wondered what Chester thought on those nights when he didn't show up at the jail to climb into his cot until the early morning hours or, as was happening more and more, didn't use his cot at all. Most nights, when that happened, he figured Chester was sound asleep and didn't even notice, and, other nights, he figured Chester just thought he was busy with his rounds and responsibilities. But on nights like this one, when the whole town was shut down, and when he knew how tired the lawman was, Matt thought Chester must have some suspicions. He figured Chester suspected what he was up to, but maybe not with whom. Of course, Chester was a gentleman and would never say anything, and Matt sure wasn't about to bring it up.

It had only been a couple of months since he had committed himself to Kitty, and he had never been happier. As a lawman, he knew he couldn't afford emotional entanglements, but somehow, he sure had gotten himself into one. He just hoped he never had to pay the price for this entanglement, because it would kill him. He wouldn't mind the dying, but he wasn't sure he could stand the hurt or the guilt.

The niggling fear deep inside him that something might happen to her never ever went away, but he had learned to live with it, and he had pledged himself to do everything within his power to keep her safe. He thought he'd learned the price of loving someone as a boy, but only now, when he was in love with Kitty Russell, did he really understand how high that cost could be. But somehow, the possibility of losing her couldn't compete with the wonder of having her.

As he approached the Long Branch, he glanced up one more time at the candle in the window, then paused to assure himself that the key was safely stored in his pocket. When he was away from her, he would wonder how she could possibly love him, a man with a chancy job, not much money, and a lot of dead men on his conscience. The key was his physical reminder of her love. The light used to let him know it was safe for him to visit, but, now, like the key, it was a well-appreciated reminder that she loved him and was waiting for him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Early the next morning, Matt had reluctantly untangled himself from Kitty's arms and slipped out from under the sheet to face the day. He dressed quietly before leaning over and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Then he stepped over the squeaky floorboard, quietly slipped out onto the landing and carefully locked the door behind him. It was still dark out, and it had been a mighty short night, especially the sleeping part. But, with a murderer locked up in his jail, he figured it would be a busy day.

Once at the jail, he was surprised to find Dunbart already awake and loudly complaining about his treatment. Chester was somehow still asleep despite the racket. Matt, somewhat needlessly, considering all the noise, opened the door to the cells to assure himself his prisoner was safe and still locked behind the bars. He stepped into the cell area, both to let Dunbart know he was back and to tell him breakfast would be along later. At his appearance, the prisoner rushed to the bars screaming obscenities. He pushed his face up against the bars, calming as an evil grin settled itself across his features. "I'm gonna kill ya, Dillon. If it's the last thing I ever do, I'm gonna do it. Ain't nothing gonna save you."

Matt took a deep breath. "Well, I see a night in jail hasn't done much to alter your mood. Like I said, breakfast shortly." And, with those words, Matt closed the door and went to his desk to prepare for the trial and work on his arrest report until the town businesses opened. Dunbart continued with his threats making it difficult for him to concentrate even though the heavy door at least muffled them. Not for the first time, Matt wondered precisely what was behind the man's white-hot hatred of him. Eventually he managed to block out the noise, focus on his paperwork, and plan his day. By the time the sun was up, he had pretty much everything in order and his report nearly finished. And Chester was awake if somewhat bleary eyed. "My goodness, Mr. Dillon, that prisoner in there hardly let me get a wink a sleep last night. He's plumb crazy is what he is."

"You don't have to tell me, Chester. I was stuck listening to him for that whole ride up from the Indian Territories. "

"Did you do something special mean to him or something cause he sure has a powerful hate for you. "

"I dunno, Chester. I suppose me arresting him and bringing him back to Kansas to a probable hanging could be the reason. But he's also pretty upset about something I did during the war. I just don't know exactly what that was. He ranted about it a lot, but never provided any real specifics."

"Well. Mr. Dillon, he did mention to me that you were a disgrace to Texas and that bein in the Union army during the war made you a traitor. He said you oughta hang for that, but if he couldn't hang you, he was sure gonna kill ya. If'n I was you, I'd be real careful around that fella." Chester scrubbed at his face and looked over at his boss before he added, "It don't make no sense to me though. The war's been over a long time."

Matt took a deep breath. "That's true, Chester, but a lot of men are still carrying around the hurt from that war. The thing that bothers me though, is how does he know I'm from Texas, and that I fought for the Union. That's not even common knowledge here in Dodge. And he said he was gonna kill me for what I did in the war, but I don't ever remember seeing him before."

"Well, forever more, I didn't even think about that. Why you got more'n enough trouble from them Texas Drovers already without them know'n that. They already hate Kansas law and Kansas lawmen."

"Yeah, Chester, and Dunbart mentioned hating Kansas lawmen to me a time or two on the trip into Dodge. Seems that, in his mind, I have a lot of strikes against me." He sighed. "Well, nothing I can do about it except get him tried and out of my jail. As soon as you get yourself up, how about heading over to Delmonico's and getting him some breakfast while I finish up my report."

"Sure thing, Mr. Dillon, although it don't seem to me he deserves no breakfast."

Matt grinned at his assistant. "Starving him is pretty tempting, but I figure he might take it personal if I didn't feed him, and I sure wouldn't want to make him mad."

"Aw, Mr. Dillon, you're just a joshin me. I'll head over to Delmonico's now."

"Ok, Chester, and, as soon as you get back and can keep an eye on the prisoner, I'm going to wire Judge Brooking and find out when he'd like to set the trial. Once I know that, I'll see about bringing in the witnesses from Jetmore."

Matt was pleased when the Judge set the trial for Friday. Since today was Wednesday, there was just enough time to get the witnesses in and all the evidence in order. It was exceptionally quick, but he was glad of it. Despite his best efforts, Dunbart's constant threats were definitely wearing on him, and he hoped to get everything taken care of without Kitty hearing about this personal vendetta Dunbart seemed to have against him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The witnesses came in from Jetmore by horseback around noon on Thursday, and Matt saw to it they were put up at the Dodge House. The Judge came in on the evening stage, and Matt met with him to go over the witnesses and the evidence. It looked like an open and shut case.

The next morning the Judge convened the court. The jurors listened to the evidence and testimony. After deliberating for less than fifteen minutes, they returned with a guilty verdict, both for robbing the bank and killing the teller. Matt was glad to see the trial proceed so smoothly. He was surprised and glad that Dunbart sat quietly through the proceedings.

Judge Brooking turned to the defendant. "Floyd Dunbart, you have been found guilty of robbery and murder by a jury of your peers. Please rise for sentencing.

Dunbart stood and turned his eyes briefly on Matt, then on the jury.

The Judge continued, "Do you have anything to say before I pronounce sentence?"

Dunbart ignored the Judge and kept his eyes glued on the jury, a faint sneer on his face. "Maybe I did kill that one man, but your high and mighty Marshal here is the one oughta be on trial. He's a traitor and a murderer, and I'm gonna kill him and ain't none of you, nor nothing, gonna stop me. How many Texans you reckon he murdered?"

At that point the Judge started banging his gavel and demanding order, and Dunbart finally shut up.

Judge Brooking locked his eyes on the defendant. "I sentence you, Floyd Dunbart, to hang by the neck until dead in Hays City, Kansas, at 8 AM on this Tuesday. May God have mercy on your soul. Marshal Dillon, please escort the prisoner back to his cell."

At the Judge's word, Matt stood, firmly grasped Dunbart's arm, and led him back to the jail. As he locked the man back in his cell, Dunbart threatened to kill him yet again. Matt ignored him as he focused on his two main concerns. The first was that after that outburst by Dunbart in court, Kitty was definitely going to find out that the prisoner he was escorting to Hays had a powerful desire to see him dead. The second was that in order to get Dunbart to Hays in time for the hanging, he was either going to have to leave this afternoon or early tomorrow. He decided pretty quickly that it would be the next morning. He wanted another night in Dodge. Besides, three days was enough time to get to Hays and two nights guarding a prisoner like this one out on the trail was more than enough.

Matt quickly left the cell area and was pleased to see Chester already waiting for him. "Mr. Dillon, I was thinking you're gonna want me to go along with you to Hays City, ain't ya?"

Matt raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head in the negative. "Chester, I wouldn't mind having you along, but it's not possible. The Pinkertons are coming in on the Monday train and bringing in those train robbers they caught. They're expecting to leave them in our jail cells overnight, so somebody has to be here to see that everything goes smoothly."

"Goodness gracious, Mr. Dillon, you ain't thinking of taking that Dunbart fella to Hays alone. That's just not a good idea at all." Chester's concern for his friend and boss was plain on his face.

Matt struggled to keep his irritation at Chester's concern from showing. He knew it wasn't Chester causing his aggravation. Dunbart was wearing on him, and he didn't like it. But that didn't keep him from snapping, "Well I tell ya, Chester, I got him here from the Indian Territories all right. I don't see why I can't get him to Hays."

Chester tried to make amends, but Matt could tell his opinion hadn't changed one whit. "Well, I know that Mr. Dillon. Why, I've seen you escort three or four men to Hays with no help at all. But this Dunbart fella, he ain't right in his head. And you see his eyes. They ain't got no light in em, almost like he was already dead. He's just creepy is what he is."

"Ummhmm. I do need you to watch over him the rest of today. I plan to head out by first light tomorrow." Matt wasn't about to admit that Dunbart had him worried too. He just couldn't figure how the man knew so much about him. Chester was right, Dunbart was creepy, but just now Matt wanted to get over to the Long Branch and see Kitty. He just might need to do some damage control.

"You figure that'll give you enough time, do ya?"

"Yeah, Chester, three days should be plenty of time, and I don't want to spend more than two nights out on the trail with him." Matt kept it to himself where he did want to spend tonight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Matt paused at the batwing doors of the Long Branch taking time to both locate Kitty and listen to the talk that was going on. He figured the talk would be about Dunbart and him, and he was right. As soon as he stepped through the doors, the conversation quickly faded away and then picked up again as the men found something else to talk about.

"Hello, Kitty. I sure could use a drink."

"Sure thing, Matt. Sam, bring the Marshal here a beer."

"Looks like business is booming. At this rate, you're gonna be a rich woman."

"Yeah, Matt, nothing like a murder trial to set men to drinking and talking. Especially when the defendant accuses the Marshal of murder and makes it real plain he plans to kill him."

"Ah yeah, well, about that, Kitty, I wouldn't worry too much. Floyd Dunbart is locked up safe and sound over at the jail. I don't think he'll be doing any more killing."

Kitty raised her eyebrow and nailed him with her gaze. "Don't patronize me, Matt. I know you're taking him to Hays, and I don't like it."

"Look Kitty, it's my job. It's not like I get to pick and choose which prisoners I escort to Hays." Matt pulled his eyes free and took a sip of his beer then looked up, again meeting her eyes. "Besides, don't you figure every man I take to a hanging has probably got it in his head to kill me if he gets a chance? I can take care of myself."

"That's what I keep telling myself, but I still worry. Before you came in here, these men were saying some crazy stuff about Dunbart, the war, and you being a murdering traitor."

"I know, and I'm real sorry you have to hear things like that."

"When are ya leaving, Matt? Some of these men say you'll have to go this afternoon."

"Nope." Matt smiled at her. "I don't plan to leave till first thing tomorrow. Three days should be enough time to get there." He knew that in the past he probably would have left this afternoon to make sure he had a cushion in case he was delayed somehow on the trail. But he saw things a little different these days.

She looked up at him, searching his face for clues to his feelings, her fear for him painfully evident in her expressive eyes. "You're going to take Chester with you, aren't you? You don't dare try to take this man by yourself."

Matt lifted his glass and drained the remaining beer in a single swallow before returning the glass to the bar. "I gotta go, Kitty. I have a lot to get done before tomorrow." He lowered his voice. "I'll see ya tonight."

As Matt exited through the saloon doors, he could almost feel her eyes following him. He was pretty sure he hadn't done much to alleviate her fears.

To be continued…


	9. Chapter 9

Historical Notes

"It is not my wish to leave the service of the United States as long as it is honorable for me to remain in it, and therefore as long as my native State Virginia remains in the Union it is my purpose to remain in the Army, unless required to perform duties alike repulsive to honor and humanity." George Henry Thomas, Virginian

I can anticipate no greater calamity for the country than the dissolution of the Union. It would be an accumulation of all the evils we complain of, and I am willing to sacrifice everything but honor for its preservation. Robert E. Lee, Virginian

In the end, George Henry Thomas fought for the Union and Robert E. Lee for the Confederacy. The personal decision each man made significantly impacted him personally, and the leadership each provided to the opposing forces was noteworthy in determining the history of a nation. Both men were West Point graduates.

XXXXXX

" _How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."_

A.A. Milne

Chapter 9: Leaving is Hard

The remainder of his day passed slowly. Matt almost wished he left that afternoon, but he knew the big reason he hadn't left was he needed to spend one more night in Kitty's arms. She was his home, the place where he felt safe and loved. She centered him. Her love and gentleness helped him balance the hate and violence he encountered in men like Floyd Dunbart. She was his reminder that there was goodness in the world. Hell, she was his reminder that there was good in him.

He didn't go back to the Long Branch for the rest of the day, tried to convince himself it was because he was too busy, but the truth was, he was avoiding Kitty. He just didn't know what to say to her. But it was dark now, and she would be expecting him after his late rounds. Like every night, he couldn't wait to see her, but on this particular night, as much as he wanted to be with her, he dreaded answering the questions she would have, knew he had no answers. He just wanted to lose himself in her love, but he knew she would be worried, would be looking for reassurance. He wished he could keep her from worrying, but he knew her not worrying about him was about as likely as him not worrying about her.

Thankfully, his last rounds of the day found nothing but peaceful streets and locked doors. He made one last stop at the stable to make sure that both Buck and Dunbart's horse had everything they needed. He was going to be pushing hard to make certain to get to Hays in plenty of time for the hanging. After assuring himself that the horses would be ready, he stepped back onto Front Street, his steps quickening as he neared the alley that would take him to Kitty.

He quickly climbed the steps, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. As he hoped, Kitty was waiting for him. She had already changed from her bar attire to a filmy cream-colored negligee trimmed with intricate lace and leaving just enough to his imagination. Divesting himself of hat and gunbelt, he crossed the room in two steps, pulling her into his embrace, his physical need for her already making itself known. But Kitty had other ideas. Pulling herself back from him, she said, "Whoa there, Cowboy, we're gonna have a drink, and you're going to answer some questions. Then I'll let you direct the rest of the evening."

Matt felt himself deflate—in more ways than one. He had known it was going to be this way. Sighing in defeat, he dropped down into the big chair she had bought to comfortably accommodate his large frame. She'd had it shipped in special from St. Louis right after he managed to commit himself to her. He had to admit it was a comfort. "Ok, Kitty, I'll do my best to answer questions, but I doubt I know much more than what you heard in the bar today."

Kitty poured them both a drink and seated herself near him. "Yeah, I did hear a lot today, all right. But it was kind of confusing. Why does this Dunbart hate you so much? Burke just couldn't wait to tell me that Dunbart accused you of being a traitor and murdering a bunch of Texans." Kitty shook her head in frustration. "That just doesn't make any sense."

"Well, Kitty, in a way it does. I grew up in Texas. My father was a ranger. And I fought in the Union Army. You already knew all that and somehow you managed to either overlook it or forgive me. But, to a lot of southerners, and, especially Texans, that makes me a traitor."

"I never asked you, Matt, but I've wondered about that choice. Wasn't that kind of an unusual decision?"

Matt kept his expression impassive. He hated talking about the war, but he was grateful she hadn't asked him how Floyd Dunbart knew so much about him. That was his real worry, and he did not want her to realize there was a personal history between him and that man. Dunbart didn't just hate him because he was a Texan that put on a Yankee uniform. His hate was more personal than that. He just wished he could remember where their paths had crossed.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he offered her the simplest answer he had. "Not that unusual, Kitty. There were other Texans that didn't favor the confederacy, and I'd been to Galveston and seen the slave markets with my Father when I was a boy. The inhumanity I witnessed there wasn't something I could ever forget. Also, my Father opposed slavery, and he spoke out against the idea of one man owning another. He was also a great admirer of Sam Houston. And I believe in the Union, believe we should be one nation. It wasn't right to tear the country apart. All of those things made it the only decision I could make. Actually doing it was real hard, but the decision was easy. Most everyone I knew-friends, acquaintances, enemies-was screaming about northern aggression and southern independence. They had war fever and were enlisting in droves."

"What did you do, Matt?"

"I headed north. I got all the way to Kentucky, and that's where I joined up under the command of George Thomas. He was a good officer and he suited me. Strangely enough, I first met him in Texas, before the war, when he commanded the Second U.S. Cavalry. At first, the men I served with didn't have much use for me, but I did my job, and I guess, for the most part, they eventually forgot where I came from."

"I'm not proud of what I did. I spent those war years killing my own people." He thought to himself, what difference did it really make when you killed a man whether he was from New York or Texas. But somehow, there would always be a part of him that hurt because of the choice he had been forced to make. "It was hard, but it was just something that I had to do, because men who would never shed a drop of blood brought the North and the South to a point where it couldn't be stopped."

He caught Kitty's eyes, wanting her to understand. "I killed men for no other reason than they were wearing a gray coat instead of a blue one. Without the things I learned from my Father, I could have been one of those men in gray." Matt felt himself slipping back in time, remembering the rampant sickness, the death, the screaming of the injured, the blood, and the terrifying sound of artillery overhead. To him, it was a war that never should have been, and he hoped to hell there would never be another. He mumbled. "Men should be able to make things right without resorting to that kind of violence and bloodshed."

He suddenly snapped back to the present. Kitty was standing next to him, shaking his shoulder, telling him there would be no more questions. "C'mon, Matt, get your boots off and come to bed with me." Gratefully he pulled off his boots and stood. He followed her to the bed, turned to her, and slowly lifted the negligee over her head, gradually revealing her naked body. She was breathtaking. He felt her unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it down off his shoulders. He shrugged free of the shirt and quickly unbuckled his belt, letting his pants drop to the floor. He stepped out of them and reached for Kitty, pulling her against him. He would never have enough of this woman. He lifted her, gently placing her on the bed and then lay down beside her. She seemed so small and fragile in his arms, and he marveled at the amazing independent spirit that lived in this compact package. His desire was intense, but he would be patient. He needed this to last, wanted to explore every inch of her body, wanted to be able to recall every part of her and every moment of this night on the long ride to Hays. He wanted the memory to last for eternity—just in case something happened out there on the trail, something that kept him from ever coming home.

He started with her eyes. They were what first attracted him to her. The light from the candle in the window still burned, and he could see it flickering in their uncharted depths, was reassured by the love for him that shined from within. He gently kissed each eye closed, then moved on to her lips, gently pairing his to hers, and then gradually becoming more demanding as he sought deeper explorations. His fingers gently caressed her soft skin, tracking down her shoulders, her back, pausing to give extra attention to the places that made her shiver. He traced each rib marveling at how fragile they felt beneath his powerful hands. He could feel her fingers mirroring his, tracing down his shoulders, digging into the hard muscles of his back, then tracing his ribs as they journeyed lower. He moaned softly. Then he slipped lower, his mouth exploring and tasting, memorizing and remembering.

Soon he could feel her pressing against him, rocking, demanding. His need to be one with her overwhelmed him, and he pushed, joining himself with her, and she welcomed him. He was home; he was safe. He paused, savoring the feeling of completeness. Then he began to move, his hips rocking in the age-old rhythm of love demanded and love given. Gradually he increased the pace, his need pushing him to go deeper, harder, and then he heard her gasp, felt her muscles tighten around him, driving him over the edge, his pleasure magnified by hers. Spent, he rolled to the side and pulled her with him. He lay very still, holding her tight, basking in the quiet pleasure of still being joined with her as they both lay together, sated for the moment. He wondered again what he had ever done to deserve the love of this exquisite woman.

His reverie was interrupted by a soft voice, "Matt, I love you."

He responded, "I love you, too." He reflected that he probably loved her more than she could ever imagine, but he couldn't ever think of the right words to tell her that. "I will always love you."

"Matt, …don't forget your promise."

"Which one?"

"The one where you promised to come back to me."

"I remember, Kitty, I remember."

Morning came all too soon, and Matt reluctantly slipped from the safety of her arms and carefully dressed. He put on a clean shirt and carefully pinned his badge in place. Then he bent over her sleeping form, gently kissed her, and quietly whispered in her ear, "I promise to do everything in my power to come home to you." He reflected, and not for the first time, that the badge was a demanding taskmaster. Then he silently slipped from her room, his U.S. Marshal face firmly in place as he headed down to the stable. He took a deep breath. With any luck, he would be rid of Floyd Dunbart in three days.

The sun was just beginning to light the eastern sky when Matt finished tacking up the horses. He led them down to the jail where he added the canteens and saddlebags he had packed the previous day and shoved the rifle in the boot. It was already hot, and he pulled off his vest and stuffed it in one of the saddlebags, first removing the key to the handcuffs and then the key to Kitty's room. He dropped the handcuff key in the left front pocket of his pants and then sequestered the smaller brass key in the small pocket inside the right front pocket. He patted it, making sure it was safe. He kept it with him always. On the trail, it reminded him of home and that Kitty loved him. He woke Chester and let him know he was leaving.

Chester scrambled to his feet. "Mr. Dillon, you shoulda woke me sooner. I coulda taken care of those horses for you and got everything ready."

"That's all right, Chester. I was done sleeping anyway. You look out for things while I'm gone, and don't forget to have everything ready when the Pinkertons come in on Monday.

"Mr. Dillon, are you sure I couldn't come along with ya?"

"Yeah, Chester, I'm sure. Look, I'll send a telegram when I get to Hays. You let Kitty and Doc know I made it safe, ok?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Dillon."

Matt took one last deep breath before he resolutely stepped back into the cell area and unlocked the door to Floyd Dunbart's cell. "C'mon out of there, Dunbart. We're heading for Hays City."

"I been waiting for you, Marshal, been looking forward to the trip." A greasy smile painted his face and he chuckled humorlessly. "You better say goodbye to your assistant there," he nodded in Chester's direction. "Cause you won't be seeing him again."

"Shut up, Dunbart, I'm sick of listening to you."

Matt wasn't happy about it, but the next thing he did was to shackle Dunbart's wrists. He didn't like shackling his prisoners, and he knew the fact that he felt the need to do it now was an indication that Dunbart had him rattled. "You give me any trouble, and I'll shackle em behind your back, and that'll make for a mighty uncomfortable ride. Now get up on that horse."

Once settled on his horse, Dunbart looked down at him. "You just enjoy yourself there, Marshal, because when I'm done with you, you ain't gonna be so high and mighty at all. You're just gonna be a dead traitor."

Matt pursed his lips, determined that Dunbart wasn't going to rile him. Then he stepped into his own stirrup and pulled himself into the saddle. He nodded to Chester. "See ya in about a week." Then he gestured to his prisoner. "Let's go."

And with those words, Dunbart started the ride down Front Street with Matt following just behind. Matt looked up at Kitty's window. It was open. She held a fresh lit candle and was watching as he rode past. He knew she was reminding him that she would be waiting for him, that she loved him. He gave an almost imperceptible nod in acknowledgement as he continued following his prisoner down Front Street. But unfortunately, Dunbart wasn't quite done messing with his head. He unexpectedly pulled his horse to a halt, and before Matt could react, hollered out. "Hey, all you Dodge City citizens, you oughta be out here saying your final goodbye to your fine Marshal here, cause he won't be coming back. You hear me?"

Matt quickly pulled up next to him, barely squelching the desire to backhand him right off that horse. "Shut up, Dunbart. Shut up, or I'll gag ya. Now get moving." Matt was grateful that they were past the Long Branch before Dunbart put on his little show. Kitty still heard the outburst, but he was certain the man hadn't noticed her in the window. He glanced back; saw the window close and the curtain drop back in position, could see her still peeking around the curtain and knew her eyes would follow him until he disappeared from sight. He gritted his teeth as he contemplated the added anguish and worry that shouted threat would cause her.

Dunbart scoffed and curled his lip in a sneer. "Sure thing, big man. I got nothing else to say to you anyway. You already know, I'm gonna kill ya."

Dunbart's threat sent a cold chill down Matt's back despite the heat of the already warm day. He sounded so certain. On the positive side, at least Dunbart shut up, and the first day ended with no further threats or problems, just a long ride and a lot of sweating. Matt used the quiet time to reflect on his last night with Kitty and think about how glad he would be to get back home. It didn't used to be so hard to leave.

To be continued…


	10. Chapter 10

" _By the clock 'tis day; And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp"_

William Shakespeare. Macbeth, Act 2, Scene 4

Chapter 10: Peripeteia

The first night out on the trail also passed uneventfully, and Matt got his prisoner up and headed out before first light. Matt knew the trail to Hays very well and was satisfied with the progress they had made the previous day. Despite the early hour it was already a blistering day, and his shirt was already stuck to his back and chest with sweat. Before long, a strong breeze kicked up out of the west. It was a hot, dry wind that provided no relief from the sweltering heat, the kind of wind that seemed to suck the moisture right of a man. Matt was already anticipating the relative coolness of the evening, but that was a long way off.

They were passing a small grove of trees, and he motioned to Dunbart to halt. Both men dismounted enjoying the shade. Matt handed one of the canteens to Dunbart and took a long drink out of the other one. There was a small cluster of rocks and a watering hole about two hours ahead. Matt planned to stop and water the horses there and eat a little jerky while the horses rested and grazed. Matt wasn't a man that liked to count his chickens before they hatched, but he couldn't help but think that he was over a third of the way to making Dunbart somebody else's responsibility. He was just about to order Dunbart back in the saddle when the man decided to start talking again.

"So, Dillon, you got a girl?"

"Nope." Damn, Matt knew he had responded too quickly, hoped Dunbart hadn't noticed, decided to add a little convincing. "I range free." Matt wasn't sure why he was so worried about Dunbart thinking he had a girl. The man was scheduled to hang day after the next. But Matt was still unnerved by him, and he just didn't want to take the remotest chance that if he got away from him, he might find Kitty.

"Let's go, Dunbart."

"Sure, Dillon. I just was hoping that if you did, you gave her a real nice good bye, seeing as you won't be seeing her again."

This time Matt chose to not respond. Instead he mounted up and motioned to Dunbart to do the same.

The two men rode silently across the prairie, a silence for which Matt was immensely grateful. The trail was sloping downhill, and they had just passed the unique rock formation that marked the location of the water hole—just off the trail to the west. He knew the horses needed water and he was looking forward to the opportunity to get out of the saddle and rest a little in the shade of the surrounding rocks, a thought that coincided with the staccato sound of a rifle shot and white-hot pain coursing through his back and side. Slumped over Buck's neck, Matt tried to both make a break for safety and get to his gun. He failed at both as his prisoner launched himself from his saddle dragging him to the ground.

Matt pulled himself to his knees despite the burning fire radiating from his side and again tried to reach his gun. This time his hand closed around it, and he pulled it from the holster only to have it kicked from his hand by Dunbart who made it to his feet first. Matt briefly clutched his hand to his wounded side, the pain in both intense, then again tried to clamber to his feet in a last ditch effort to defend himself. He had just succeeded when he felt the impact of Dunbart's iron clad wrists striking his injured side. Bolts of sharp agony slammed though his body driving him back to his knees. He collapsed forward as he attempted to shelter his injured side.

Nearly incapacitated by the pain pulsating through his body, he tried to lift his head to see his opponent, could feel his chances for getting back to Kitty slipping away. Then he saw his gun, nearly obscured in the prairie grass, and made a desperate lunge towards it, reaching out with his injured hand. His fingers closed on the grip just as Dunbart's booted foot pinned his hand to the ground. Ignoring the pain, he tried and failed to pull free. Then Dunbart laughed evilly, ground the heel of his boot down on Matt's hand, reached over, and yanked the gun from Matt's damaged fingers.

"Well, Dillon, I told you I was gonna kill ya, and now I am. Get up. I want you on your feet when I shoot ya. Get up."

It wasn't in Matt to give up, and despite his injury and pain, he wasn't planning on going down without a fight. He took his time dragging himself to his feet, tried to measure his opponent. He'd promised Kitty he would do everything in his power to get home to her, and if he didn't make it back to her, it wouldn't be because he gave up. He made it to his knees and was considering trying to climb to his feet, but he was hurt, and he definitely needed time to marshal his strength. He looked up into the hate-filled eyes of Floyd Dunbart, could see the gun clutched in his manacled hands, saw that it was pointed directly at his chest. He had the slightly crazy notion that he had just given his heart to Kitty, and now, Dunbart was going to ruin it. He swallowed, tried to control the pain that was making it hard for him to think, tried to stay focused. "Dunbart, who are you, and why do you want me dead?"

"I told you, you gotta die because you're a traitor."

Matt was vaguely aware of more men on horses arriving. The bullet wound in his side told him they weren't here to help, but so far they hadn't done anything but ride up. He decided to just stick to the only plan he had. "Yeah, but how do you know me? How do you know I fought for the Union? What's your personal grudge against me? Doncha think I ought to know that before I die?" He waited, as Dunbart seemed to consider his barrage of questions, tried to use the time to regain his strength.

"I dunno, Dillon. I guess I do wancha to know just why it's me that's killing ya, why I'm the one that's gotta do it. But I think I'll go ahead and shoot you first, and I'll tell ya all about it while you're dying. I just need to decide where to shoot ya. Now! Get. Up. I'm not gonna say it again."

Matt was still on his knees and contemplating a response when he noticed the other men closing in on him. He was having trouble focusing. They seemed to be wavering in the light, and he couldn't tell whether there were three of them or four. He distractedly wondered how a man like Dunbart had any friends at all.

Then he heard one of them yell, "Floyd, put that gun away. We ain't killing him just now. Seeing as he ain't dead, we're gonna sell him."

The immediate threat to his survival seemingly postponed, Matt lost his grip on consciousness and collapsed to the ground. His last thought was that he didn't think they'd find a buyer. Fortunately, he never felt the pain when a frustrated Floyd Dunbart kicked him in the ribs as he lay helpless in the dust.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"That's enough, Floyd," ordered the oldest man in the group. "Be hard to sell him if he's dead." He walked over and looked down on the unconscious lawman. "You're sure this is the man? "

"Yeah, Pa, it's him for sure. I ain't never gonna forget him, the size of him if nothing else. When he caught up to me down in the Indian Territories, I knowed him right off. Even before he said his name, I was sure."

"But he didn't know you?"

"No, Pa. Even when I told him I was gonna kill him for what he done in the war, he didn't know me. It was like it was nuthin to him, and it made me hate him more than I already done."

"Well son, the way I figure it, this traitor owes us a good bit more than his life. We got money owed us for what he took from us, so that's why I figure to sell him first, and then we'll kill him."

"But Pa, I didn't see nobody in that town that cared enough to buy him. He don't even have a girl. I axed him, and he told me he didn't have one. There was a jailer fella name of Chester that didn't much like me making threats, but I can tell you, he sure ain't got no money to be doin no buyin. We oughta just kill him and get outta here."

Ignoring Floyd, the older man turned to one of the other men in the group. "Jeb, take Floyd and get the horses watered and the canteens filled."

Then he addressed the youngest member of the group. "Caleb, as soon as Floyd and Jeb get the horses watered and the canteens filled, see if you can't get him up. If he can't ride, we'll pack him over his saddle. We gotta be gone and well-hidden before they come looking for him." He looked around and smiled. "With a little luck, this wind'll wipe out any trace we were ever here."

XXXXXXXXXX

Caleb rolled the big lawman over and dumped half a canteen of water on his face and head, relieved to see him open his eyes and show some awareness of his surroundings. "Look, you got two choices, you either get on that horse or we'll toss you across the saddle and tie you on."

Matt blinked, trying to process the request. Not sure if it was true, he finally mumbled, "I can ride." He turned back over and carefully pushed himself to his hands and knees. Supporting his wounded side, he dropped back onto his haunches. "Can ya give me a hand up?"

"I dunno, it don't look to me like you're gonna be able to ride. I ain't real sure you're even gonna live."

Matt looked up to measure the man addressing him, was surprised to see he was more boy than man. "Just get me up, and I'll ride." Matt wasn't sure what was going on, but at the moment nobody was pointing a gun at him and nobody was threatening to kill him.

"All right, Dillon, ain't it? I got a hold of your arm. Let's see if you can get up. Ready?"

Matt was about to signal his readiness when Floyd shouldered Caleb out of the way. "Gimme the key, Dillon."

Matt blinked, his thoughts were fuzzy and he was still trying to parse through the words when Floyd bent over and started rifling through his pockets. Matt weakly tried to push him away. He finally realized what the man wanted. "Wait, I'll give it to you." He quickly retrieved the key and handed it over.

"I told you, you wasn't gonna be so high and mighty when I was done with you. Fact is you're looking kind of low and puny right now if you ask me." Floyd unlocked the cuffs and then grinned maliciously. "How bout I let you wear these now?"

Caleb interrupted, "Leave em be, Floyd. Pa wants me to get him on his horse. That ain't happening if you put those on him. Now just get out a the way."

An angry Floyd, stormed off mumbling, "Later, Dillon, later."

Matt was relieved that the key to Kitty's room was still safely hidden. It meant home and safety to him, and he couldn't bear the thought of Floyd even touching it. Matt grasped Caleb's offered arm and struggled to his feet. He held on to the boy with one hand and supported his side with the other as he swayed precariously. He could feel the blood slowly leaking between his fingers, glad it wasn't worse. The boy gave him a few minutes to adjust to his new position. "Ok, let's get you over to your horse and into the saddle."

With considerable help from Caleb, Matt was able to reach his horse. He leaned against Buck, glad that he would be able to depend on his steady gait. He took a moment to catch his breath and then, with Caleb's continued help, somehow managed to drag himself into his saddle. He hated showing so much weakness, but there was no way he would have even made it to his feet without the boy's wiry strength. As it was, he wasn't at all sure he could stay in the saddle.

He was lucky the bullet had gone through. It had hit him low on his side, towards his back and come out under his ribs. The shooter must have been hidden in the rocks they had just passed.

He reached around to pull his handkerchief from his pocket and gritted his teeth as he stuffed it into the exit wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding. The entry wound didn't seem to be bleeding much and, as bullet wounds went, this one didn't seem too bad, but bad enough to make riding a definite challenge. Already, he was unable to remain upright and was crumpled over Buck's neck, holding the reins in his injured hand and clinging to the saddle horn with the other. His hands were slick with blood and he paused to wipe the blood off the left one before grasping the horn a second time.

He was surprised by Caleb's steady assistance and the care he took to not add to his pain. Matt filed that information away in his brain. The boy definitely lacked the cruelness he had seen in Floyd. He had to admit that the more he saw of Floyd, the more he thought there was something very wrong with him. A miasma of sickness surrounded the man.

Too be continued…


	11. Chapter 11

" _One has to accept pain as a condition of existence. One has to court doubt and darkness as the cost of knowing. One needs a will stubborn in conflict, but apt always to the total acceptance of every consequence of living and dying."_

Morris West

Chapter 11: Staying in the Saddle

The group rode steadily to the southwest until the sun was just above the horizon. They stopped in a small thicket of trees and camped for the night. They'd only ridden for about six hours, and by the time they stopped, Matt was so weak, he was just barely clinging to the saddle and consciousness.

He was grateful when Caleb assisted him in dismounting and helped him over to lean against one of the larger trees. Floyd had quickly come over and yanked his hands in front of him and secured the irons on his wrist. Matt gritted his teeth determined that Floyd not see his pain. Floyd leaned over and hissed, "Just don't forget, I'm still gonna make you dead," before stalking off to help set up camp. On the positive side, Matt had heard that threat so many times, it was sort of losing its impact. He glared at the handcuffs, tried to twist his wrists a little to make them less painful. He examined his right hand. It was swollen and bruised, but, although it was painful, he was able to bend each finger. They hurt, but he could use them.

Matt was finding it increasingly difficult to think. He readjusted the handkerchief he had stuffed into the wound. He'd lost quite a bit of blood on that long ride and he needed to keep what he had left. He hoped he would feel a little stronger after a night's rest.

Despite his exhaustion and weakness, Matt struggled to maintain his tenuous hold on consciousness, knew he had to learn as much as he could about who these men were and their plans for him if he was to have any chance to stay alive. He closed his eyes and focused on the soft conversations surrounding him. He already knew that the oldest man in the group was Cass, and that he was Floyd and Caleb's father. He also appeared to be in charge. The last member of the party was Jeb. Cass had told Jeb to hang back and make sure no one was following them, so there had been little opportunity to learn much about him. He figured Jeb was also one of the brothers. So Floyd didn't have friends, but he did have family.

It was clear that these men didn't much like him, but, with the possible exception of the father, none had the boiling hatred for him that Floyd had. He was used to Texans, and these men weren't much different than the Texans that regularly showed up in Dodge during cattle season. They didn't like Kansas' law, and these particular men had the added information that he was a Texan who'd worn Union blue during the war. But Floyd had a special hate for him, and his father seemed to share that hate. Matt needed to know what was behind it. He had wracked his brain but he couldn't remember ever meeting any of these men before.

He was surprised to see Caleb approach him with a plate of beans and a cup of coffee. Matt looked up, met his gaze. "Aren't you worried about Floyd calling ya out for fraternizing with the enemy?"

"Floyd's a mean one all right. I see he got ya cuffed. The war done it to him. He wasn't always like this. He handed Matt a spoon. If I set this plate here, can you manage to eat?"

"Yeah, thanks, Caleb." The lawman pulled himself a little straighter determined to see what he could get out of this kid. "So do you know why it is Floyd wants me dead. I just don't remember having crossed paths with him."

"Look Dillon, I'm sorry its gotta be this way, but you ruined Floyd and hurt this family bad." He shook his head. I wasn't old enough to fight in the war, and my family ain't never really let me forget that. Because of that, to them, I'll never measure up, but I'm still a Dunbart, so don't look to me for any help."

With those parting words, Caleb left, joining the other men around the fire. Matt continued to listen, hoping to learn something from the few words he was able to pick up from the ongoing conversation. He again heard them discuss trying to sell him. He thought he remembered that from earlier, but his memory was a little foggy. It didn't make a lot of sense to him. He knew he didn't have many friends, and the few friends he did have, didn't have much money. These men ought to know a lawman wasn't likely to have many friends, especially rich friends. Besides, how could these men figure out who his friends were? He guessed it didn't much matter. At least their crazy scheme was temporarily keeping him alive, and as long he was still breathing, he had hopes he could somehow get out of this mess.

The long ride, and the blood loss, left him worn and weak. He wasn't feeling too much like eating, but he forced himself to eat the beans Caleb brought over, washing them down with the coffee. Between the heavy iron cuffs and his injured hand, eating had been a challenge. He knew he needed food to keep up his strength, and there was no telling when he might see his next meal.

He considered trying to escape in the darkness, but Cass had someone on watch all night. Even more problematic, the horses were tied on the far side of the camp, and he would have to somehow get to them undetected. Much as he wanted to get away, he knew he needed to wait for a better opportunity. And there was the added problem of Floyd. He was still determined to get him to Hays and see him hang for the murder of that bank teller. With that last thought, he drifted off into a fevered sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

Morning came all too soon, the one relief being that it had been Kitty that visited him in his dreams and not the dead. The day promised to be as hot or even hotter than the previous one. Even worse, the hot dry wind continued to blow, and Matt knew it would obliterate all traces of their tracks. They would be expecting him in Hays by this evening, but probably wouldn't do anything until he didn't shown up with Floyd by the scheduled time for the hanging on Tuesday morning.

He knew his friends in Dodge would be waiting for a telegram letting them know he arrived safely in Hays. Kitty would already be worried, and he hated thinking of how she was going to feel tonight when no telegram from him arrived. It would be even worse tomorrow when Chester got a telegram confirming his failure to arrive in Hays in time for the hanging.

Thinking of Kitty just increased his despondency. He warned her he had a short life expectancy, and she'd seen him shot enough times to know that was true. She even saw him near shot dead on Front Street. Of course that was back when they'd just become friends, and he was still doggedly trying to keep his distance.

He couldn't help wonder if she'd even want him if he got back, couldn't really see that he was worth all the anguish he brought to her. He never doubted her love when he was with her. He could feel it and see it, but sometimes out here on the trail, he would wonder how it could be that a woman like her would ever fall in love with a man like him. He took comfort from the key in his pocket and the memory of her, in the window, holding the candle as he rode out of town.

Matt heard Caleb calling for Floyd to come get the cuffs off him and knew the time had come to ride. In his sleep he had curled up, his manacled hands guarding his injury. He straightened now, got himself ready for Floyd. He was pleased that the handkerchief he had stuffed up under his shirt to slow the bleeding, along with the quiet night seemed to have helped, but the fever in his head told him that infection was starting. He was definitely not looking forward to riding. Hell, he wasn't even sure he was going to be able to get on the horse.

Floyd reluctantly came over, and Matt raised his hands making it easier for Floyd to unlock the cuffs, and making sure Floyd had no excuse to jerk him around.

Floyd sneered, "I hope those cuffs were real comfortable, Dillon. If it was up to me, you'd be wearin em all day. You try to enjoy your day now, cause you ain't got many left." With those parting words he had sauntered over to his horse and mounted up. Matt resisted the urge to rub his sore wrists and hand until Floyd had left.

Caleb then showed up and helped him to his feet and then up on Buck. The pain caused by the movement and the physical effort of pulling himself up on Buck nearly caused Matt to pass out, and he could feel the wetness on his skin as the bullet wound started to bleed again. He slipped his hand into his shirt and tried to adjust the handkerchief. At least the bleeding didn't seem too bad. He hoped to hell they were close to their destination, because he didn't figure he was going to be able to ride for long. A wasted hope as it turned out. Caleb handed him a share of jerky and quick drink from the canteen to quench his thirst before they headed out.

Caleb rode alongside him all morning. A time or two, or even more he braced the lawman as he had nearly fallen. Around noon, they stopped briefly to rest and nibble on more jerky. Again Caleb helped him dismount and provided him with a share of the dried meat. Matt forced it down and took a long drink of the provided water. Then it had been back in the saddle. His entire awareness shrunk to not falling off his horse and, eventually to no awareness at all. Caleb stayed close and when he had just about given up, leaned over and whispered, "If you can just hang on for another three hours, you can avoid finishing the trip tied over the saddle like a sack of grain." With that information, Matt tried to pull himself a little straighter. He was determined to make it; he figured finishing up tied over the saddle just might kill him.

He was fortunate that only about another hour passed before Cass called a halt for the night. Even so, Matt was barely conscious. The fact that he was still in the saddle was a testament to his horsemanship, his stubbornness, and some occasional help from Caleb. He knew he had a wide stubborn streak, and a lot of people didn't think it a very positive attribute, but it kept him alive a time or two. Caleb helped him down and forced a little water down his throat and poured some over his head, rousing him somewhat. Floyd predictably saw to handcuffing him.

Matt shook his head, tried to focus. He needed to know more about what they were planning and Cass seemed to be laying out the next steps. He'd already missed some of what the man said, and this was information he would need. He knew this land well, and it was clear to him they had been heading towards Dodge. They came by a different trail, one a little to the north of the one going directly to Hays from Dodge. He knew the prairie around here like the back of his hand and knew they were now only about three hours from Dodge. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but it somehow made him feel a little better to know he was close to home.

What he learned by eavesdropping was that Cass was going to leave for Dodge first thing in the morning. The rest of them would all be riding together to a cave Cass thought would be a well-hidden hiding place. Apparently Floyd had camped there for several days before he robbed the bank in Jetmore. Cass had wanted to get there tonight—but he was worried about Floyd being able to find it in the dark. That explained the early stop. He was pretty sure he knew the cave where Cass intended to hide out.

Cass planned to identify a prominent Dodge citizen who seemed to care enough about the missing lawman to pay for his safe return. Matt was desperately trying to make sense of the plan, but he was exhausted, wracked with pain, and feverish. There just wasn't anyone in Dodge with the money and the interest in saving him. He just couldn't quite figure how it would work.

Matt reminded himself that tomorrow would be Tuesday—at least he thought it would be Tuesday. His thinking was increasingly muddled. Tuesday was the day Floyd was scheduled to hang. His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was that the Sheriff in Hays would be missing him when he didn't show up tomorrow. He was certainly already wondering where he was.

To be continued..


	12. Chapter 12

" _A hero has faced it all: he need not be undefeated, but he must be undaunted."_

Andrew Bernstein

Chapter 12: Undaunted

When Floyd showed up to remove the handcuffs the next morning, the sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon, and Matt was uncharacteristically still sound asleep despite the noise of the men breaking camp and cooking breakfast. Floyd grabbed the chain connecting the cuffs and yanked him up, snapping him from his near unconscious state. Matt knew Floyd had a sadistic streak and the man was nothing if not predictable. Matt felt the hurt deep in his side and tried to curl into the excruciating pain, but Floyd continued to pull on the chain dragging him forward.

"C'mon, Dillon. Time to ride. You sure ain't so tough now are ya?"

Matt had his fill of Floyd Dunbart. He clenched his jaw, struggled to his knees, and grabbed onto the chain with both hands, pulling hard and yanking a surprised Floyd to the ground before the shocked man could think to let go. Floyd quickly scrambled to his knees, and Matt swung his cuffed hands striking Floyd in the side of his head and knocking him back to the ground.

Matt unsteadily struggled to his feet and was rewarded by a brief moment of triumph as he looked down on his dazed opponent and watched the blood trickle down the side of his head. The taste of victory was sweet but also brief as a furious Floyd, shook his head in an effort to clear the haze, wiped the blood away with his sleeve, clambered to his knees, and suddenly lunged forward tackling him. Unfortunately, Matt took the brunt of the attack on his damaged side and was barely able to clamp his jaws shut stifling the shout of pain that nearly escaped him as both men tumbled to the ground.

Flat on his back, Matt could feel darkness closing in on the edge of his conscious thought but struggled to fight it off as an enraged Floyd tried to press his advantage. He was able to easily block most of Floyd's flailing blows using his cuffed hands, and then he made a grab for Floyd's gun, his hand closing around the grip even as Floyd realized his danger and seized Matt's wrist in an effort to retain possession of his sidearm. The two men struggled for control of the weapon, but, even injured, Matt was stronger than Floyd. He nearly had control of the pistol when Floyd was suddenly pulled off of him.

Matt looked up to see Jeb standing over him with his gun aimed right between his eyes. "Drop it, Dillon, or I'll kill ya." Matt let the gun fall, and Floyd quickly snatched it up. With the fight ended, Matt could feel his adrenaline-fueled strength ebb, and he clenched his jaw and curled up, shielding his injury. He was breathing heavily as he focused on controlling the overwhelming pain that centered on his side but seemed to radiate though every nerve in his body. Blood was again leaking between his fingers.

An embarrassed and angry Floyd pointed his retrieved gun at Matt. "I'm gonna kill ya now, Dillon. I can't stand to be around you another minute."

Erasing the pain from his face and using his elbow to support his upper body, Matt acknowledged the threat by shifting his eyes to meet Floyd's hate filled dark stare, his own cold blue gaze carrying only contempt. Floyd might kill him, but he would be damned if he would break him.

Floyd shifted his eyes away from Matt's impassive stare. "Dammit Dillon, don't you hear me. I'm gonna kill ya."

Jeb took a deep breath. "That's enough, Floyd. You ain't killin nobody till this is over. Put the gun away… now—before I take it away. Pa has a plan and we're sticking to it."

"Jeb, I just gotta kill him."

"No, Floyd. Pa is busy setting things up, and you're not messing this up. Get hold of yourself and do what I tell ya."

Floyd slammed the gun in his holster as Caleb came rushing up.

Jeb switched his attention to his youngest brother. "Caleb, what the hell were you doing?"

A clearly contrite Caleb was anxious to make amends. "I'm sorry, Jeb. I was just getting him some breakfast and coffee."

Jeb slipped his gun back in the holster, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled before responding. "That's ok, Caleb. It wasn't your fault. I'm just a little edgy. Floyd, get those cuffs off of him." He gestured towards Matt. "And then stay away from him." Jeb's eyes dropped down to the bloodied lawman, and while he might be the prisoner, Matt gave no quarter as he felt Jeb's gaze tale measure of him. "Before this is over, Pa'll see he pays for what he done. Caleb see if you can get him up and on his horse. We need to travel."

Still seething with a mixture of pain, fury, and humiliation, Floyd quickly bent over Matt, roughly jerked his cuffed hands away from his injured side, and unlocked the irons. He snorted scornfully. "Losing an awful lot of blood there, Dillon." Then he added as he stormed off. "Too much, I hope."

Matt was aware of Caleb squatting down next to him, still holding the cup of coffee and plate of food. He looked at the Marshal and sighed. "I'm real sorry about that. I just didn't see Floyd heading your way. Course that wasn't the smartest thing you mighta done though, takin Floyd on that way when there's just one of you and three of us. And we got guns." He shook his head and looked down at the lawman's injured side. "I'm afraid you're bleeding pretty bad again."

He set the coffee and food aside and helped Matt sit up. "You best eat this and drink the coffee. You're gonna need your strength."

Matt shook his head. He was in way too much pain to eat. "Just help me get on my horse, and I'll ride. Not hungry." Caleb was right, though. Taking on Floyd had been stupid, real stupid, but as he looked over at his self-avowed nemesis and watched the steady flow of blood trickle down the man's pugnacious pain and shame contorted face, and as much as he himself hurt like hell right now, Matt just couldn't quite regret doing it. Matt felt the corner of his lip rise in an involuntary sardonic smile. Some things in life were just worth the price a man paid.

Caleb brought his horse over and helped the lawman up. Matt stood for a moment leaning against the big buckskin, lifted his blood-covered hand and patted the stalwart horse reassuring them both. "Just hold real still now, Buck." He shifted his hand back to support his side, then, with considerable assistance from Caleb, he stepped into the stirrup and dragged himself into the saddle. For a moment he wasn't sure he was going to be able to stay, but somehow he settled.

The day was already hot and humid, but at least the dry, desiccating wind had finally stopped. His shirt was soaked with sweat and sticking to his skin. Days like this, he wondered if he shouldn't have given more serious thought to one of Kitty's frequent offers to work as a bartender or maybe just seeing to sweeping the drunks out of the Long Branch. He checked his side, and he was sure enough bleeding badly again. Maybe that was a good thing, might clean out some of the infection. He sure wasn't looking forward to riding.

Thankfully, it took only a couple of hours to reach the cave where they planned to camp. But despite only having to ride for two hours, Matt was draped over the big buckskin's neck and completely done by the time they called a halt. He had long since given up on maintaining any awareness at all and just left it to Buck to keep to the trail.

With the exception of Floyd's diligence in making sure he was cuffed as soon as Caleb helped him dismount, Matt was mostly ignored. Despite his fatigue and pain, he did his best to pay attention to the activity and talk around him. He heard Jeb issue some last minute instructions before leaving for Dodge where it appeared he planned to join Cass. Caleb and Floyd would remain here to set up camp and keep watch on him. Even in his near unconscious state, he knew his chance of regaining the power in this situation would be significantly better with Cass and Jeb in town. Caleb was young and inexperienced, and Floyd's hate kept him from thinking straight. And somehow, Floyd had to pay for murdering that bank teller and leaving a woman widowed and two children without a father.

This was the cave Matt thought they were planning to use. The entrance was overgrown with vegetation. It was hard to see if you didn't know exactly where it was, and the difficulty in finding it was exacerbated by its distance from the minor trail they had been following. Matt figured it probably didn't matter anyway as he didn't see much chance of getting any outside help.

It would take at least three days to get here from Hays, and there would be no trail to follow thanks to the wind. Furthermore, despite now being only about two hours northeast of Dodge, Matt knew that help from that quarter was highly unlikely.

Anyone looking for him coming out of Dodge would have to first retrace his steps to the point where he'd been ambushed. Chester would probably ride out looking for him, but Chester was no tracker. He doubted even an experienced tracker would be able to find any trail at all. There was the added problem that no one would have realized anything was wrong until this morning when he hadn't shown up for the hanging. Yup, if he was going to get out of this, he would have to get himself out of it.

Caleb and Floyd packed everything in the cave and hid the horses in an adjacent thicket of vegetation. With everything concealed, Floyd came for him. Matt protested that he could walk, but Floyd chose to just drag him into one of the inner chambers using the chain that connected the cuffs on his wrists. The rough treatment sent daggers of pain through his battered body. In his exhausted state, Matt just lost consciousness.

XXXXXXXXXX

When he regained consciousness, Caleb was wiping his face with a wet cloth. Matt shook his head to clear his brain and made an effort to sit up, but that only brought the pain back. It had been all he could do to keep from retching. Caleb was looking at him sympathetically. "Take it easy, Dillon. I got the bleeding from your side slowed I think, but you need to try to keep still. Sorry about Floyd dragging you in here that way, but Floyd, well he just pure hates ya. But he's got good reason."

Matt tried to catch Caleb's eyes, to make a connection, but the boy somehow managed to look past him, almost like he didn't want to see him. Matt decided to try talking to him anyway. "Got to say I kind of figured out I'm not exactly his favorite person, but I sure would like to know why."

"Look Dillon, I ain't your friend and I ain't here to supply information, but it seems to me that you oughta be able to remember what ya done. You just rest, and I'll see about bringing you some food in few hours." With those words, Caleb got up and started out of the small chamber, then turned back, the lantern he held lighting his youthful features. "I'll tell you this. In the war, you let my brother Harold die a awful death, you killed Floyd's friends in cold blood, and you ruined Floyd. The terribleness of it all killed my Ma."

As Caleb and the light retreated from his cave prison, Matt laid back and closed his eyes. Open or closed, he saw the same thing, darkness. He was in one of the side chambers, well off the main chamber of the cave, too far to even hear any conversations. He tried to shift his wrists inside the cuffs, but nothing seemed to make them less painful. Floyd seemed to take considerable pleasure in shackling him and always made sure to pull the pin down as tight as he could get it. On the positive side, it was remarkably cool inside the cave and a relief from the oppressive heat outside. He tried to ignore the pain as he pulled himself up to rest against a slanted and relatively comfortable rock. He thought about what Caleb had told him. At least he now had some idea of what this family had against him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recollect the incident that Caleb described and that precipitated the events leading to him being stuck in this cave and slated for execution.

If things hadn't gone bad, he would already be in Hays and free of Floyd Dunbart. Instead he was propped up against a rock with a bullet hole in his side, trying to figure out how to get out of the mess he was in.

Thinking about Dodge predictably put him in mind of Kitty. He couldn't believe how that woman somehow became the center of his world. She was in his dreams at night and his thoughts during the day. He was desperate to see her one more time, talk to her, feel her body next to his. If he could just see her one more time, he almost thought he could die a happy man, but truth was, he wasn't planning on dying just yet.

He was certain that he should never have gotten involved in a relationship with any woman, but then Kitty came into his life giving his heart and his body other ideas. He just wasn't strong enough to stick to his decision on that one. He knew he wasn't being fair to her, but he loved her beyond reason. Even now, with all the trouble he was in, he found it hard to think of anything but her. He wondered what she was doing just then.

To be continued…


	13. Chapter 13

" _Some people care too much. I think it's called love."_

A.A. Milne

Chapter 13: Worry on the Home Front

Kitty moved past the bar to join Doc at the back table of the Long Branch. She had been terrified for Matt since the day he left town. Hearing about the things Dunbart said in court from second-hand sources like Burke worried her, but the image of Dunbart in the middle of Front Street screaming out his chilling threat was seared in her brain.

Since that moment, her fears for Matt had increased with every passing hour. When she went to bed, she wore the blue shirt that Matt wore while he had been in town and wrapped her arms around his pillow and hugged it close. Those things were a comfort to her, but she still couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she would see Matt riding out of town, hear Dunbart screaming his threat out to the whole town that Matt wouldn't be coming back.

The morning Matt left, she had awakened when Matt softly whispered in her ear his promise to do everything in his power to return home to her. Before she could even respond, he slipped out the door and into the darkness. She had risen and slipped into her robe. Lighting a new candle she stood at the window overlooking Front Street watching to see his departure. She waited quietly as the orange glow of dawn slowly illuminated Front street. She wanted to remind Matt that she loved him and would be waiting for him to come home. It hadn't been long before he rode past her window, shadowing his prisoner. His tall form was distinctive in the saddle. Buck was stepping high as if to show he was proud to carry a U.S. Marshal. Matt had foregone his usual vest and his badge gleamed in the sharp light of the rising sun. He had given the minutest of nods to acknowledge her presence and her message as he passed by.

Then Floyd had pulled his horse to a stop and screamed to the whole town that Matt wouldn't be returning. She felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. The repulsive man's vile words sickened her. She heard Matt order Floyd to shut up and to get moving, even as she closed the window and pulled the curtain closed. She couldn't stop herself from peeking around the curtain to watch. Matt glanced back towards the window and she knew he saw her, could feel his eyes meet hers. Then he turned and she watched him until he disappeared from sight and still she watched as the dust from the horses settled and the town slowly awakened.

Kitty was an expert with her paints, but it was impossible to hide the dark circles under her eyes, and it was becoming evident to even a casual observer that she wasn't sleeping. She knew Doc was worried about her.

As she sat down at the table with Doc, she could see that he too was worried about his good friend. Matt had been gone for three days now. Dunbart was scheduled to hang tomorrow morning. They both knew Matt should have made it to Hays by now, and they both knew he would have sent a telegraph letting Chester know he had arrived safely. That meant he was still somewhere out on the prairie. Kitty tried to tell herself that there was probably some mundane reason, like one of the horses throwing a shoe, that had held him up, but somehow she just knew he was in trouble, couldn't stop herself from seeing him wounded and alone out on the prairie, while somehow still managing to deny the images that flashed in her brain of him laying cold and dead.

She only vaguely heard Doc explaining all the reasons they didn't need to worry. "Kitty, Matt's been the Marshal in this town for several years now, and men plenty tougher than Floyd Dunbart have threatened to kill him. He's a pretty good man, you know. I just can't believe some two-bit bank robber would have the smallest chance against him." He shook his head and scrubbed at his mustache, "No sirree, not the smallest chance."

Kitty met his gaze, working hard to maintain her composure. "I know he's a good man, Doc." She paused before continuing, thinking that she might even know a little bit more than Doc about just how good a man he was. "I just hope you're right, but if you'd heard that man's threat as he and Matt rode out of town, you might be a little more worried."

Doc figured he was worried enough without having heard that threat, but he sure wasn't about to admit it. He was determined to just keep believing Matt was alive.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, Doc stopped by the Long Branch for coffee a little before eight, thinking Kitty would be glad of the company. He knew he would be. It was Tuesday and if they didn't hear from Matt soon, it was a near certainty that something had gone seriously wrong. Dunbart's hanging was scheduled for about ten minutes from now. If Matt had gotten in too late to send a telegram last night, he would send one this morning, probably right after the hanging.

Despite the early hour, he wasn't surprised to see Kitty already up and seated at their table. He raised his eyebrows when he saw that instead of a cup of coffee, it was a glass of whiskey that sat in front of her. He looked over at Sam as he walked in. He nodded towards Kitty's drink. "I'll have the same." He then sat down next to her. There wasn't much to be said. The clock behind the bar slowly ticked off the minutes.

An hour had passed when Chester entered the saloon. From the expression on his face, they knew he had no news. He joined them at the back table, and Kitty gestured for Sam to bring him a whiskey as well. If Chester thought drinking whiskey at nine in the morning was unusual, he kept it to himself. He finally broke the silence. "I still got those train robbers locked up. The Pinkerton men are with them now and are supposed to take em out on the 11 AM stage. I surely wish I coulda gone with Mr. Dillon. Them Pinkerton men could have handled everything, but Mr. Dillon wouldn't hear of it."

The three friends stared silently into their drinks. Kitty desperately wanted to escape to the privacy of her rooms upstairs, but she didn't want to miss the telegram if it came, but with each passing moment, it was more and more difficult for her to keep a rein on her emotions. It was Chester who again broke the uncomfortable silence. "You know, I'm just getting awful worried. Mr. Dillon told me he'd be sending a telegram soon as he could."

Doc tried to dismiss Chester's worries. "Now, Chester, you know there's a plethora of reasons why Matt might not have sent that telegram."

Chester wrinkled his brow in consternation. "A leather…what?"

His temper stretched to the breaking point by his concern for Matt, Doc snapped, "That just means there could be a lot of reasons why we haven't heard from Matt. Maybe something happened to one of the horses. Maybe the telegraph lines are down."

"Well goodness sakes, Doc, I know that. But it ain't like Mr. Dillon to be late deliverin a prisoner for hanging. It ain't like him at all. And that Floyd fella had Mr. Dillon worried. He tried to cover it up, but I could see it plain. He just couldn't figure out how that fella knowed those things about him. The only way he coulda knowed those things was if he knowed Mr. Dillon personal like and Mr. Dillon just couldn't remember him. That was botherin him some. You know Mr. Dillon; he don't forget things."

Both men looked up at the small gasp from Kitty. Doc quickly asked, "Kitty, what is it?"

Kitty shook her head. "Nothing, I'm all right, Doc. Chester, what kind of things did Dunbart know about Matt?"

"Well, that Mr. Dillon was from Texas, and that he fought for the Union. Them was the big things. Did you ever come to think how Floyd coulda knowed them things about Mr. Dillon? Hardly nobody knows those things. Mr. Dillon never talks about the war or his past, so jus how'd that fella know that about him? You just tell me that. And he said he was gonna kill Mr. Dillon for something particular what he done in the war even though Mr. Dillon didn't have any remembrance of him at all."

As worried as Kitty was about Matt, Chester's revelation had her fuming. Oh Matt mentioned Floyd being angry because he was a Texan that wore Union blue all right. But he had left out his real concern that he had some kind of past history with Floyd, a history he didn't remember. He hadn't mentioned that to her, had deliberately kept that worry from her. Even worse, he had shared it with Chester but not her. Damn him and his secrets.

She should have seen that herself, that there was no other reasonable explanation for how Floyd knew those things, but it just hadn't occurred to her. She had been so worried about Matt taking Floyd to Hays alone, and she had seen that he didn't like thinking or talking about the war, so she hadn't pressured him. She wanted their last night together before he left town to be special, to be a comfort to him. But Chester was right. Matt kept his past shrouded in shadows. Even she was still learning about the places he'd been and the things he'd done. She could feel the tears beginning to fill her eyes and quickly wiped them away before Chester or Doc saw. "I've got to go upstairs, … I just remembered something I need to take care of." With those words she started towards the stairs but took only a few steps when the saloon doors swung open.

She paused and stepped back to the table, watching and hoping as Cuthbert handed the small yellow envelope to Chester. Her hopes were dashed when he said, "It's not what you were hoping." Chester opened it and wordlessly handed it to Doc. Kitty snatched it from his hands and read it, then let it fall back to the table. She could feel the tears building and falling freely down her cheeks now. There was no hiding them this time, but she dashed them away with her sleeve anyway and slowly backed away from the table and escaped to her room.

Doc picked up the damning paper.

 _Chester Goode_

 _Dodge City, Kansas_

 _Marshal Dillon did not arrive with Floyd Dunbart. Please advise._

 _Sheriff Theodore Winslow_

 _Hays City, Kansas_

Doc looked up at Kitty's retreating form, saw the door close silently behind her. He suddenly had one more thing to worry about. He had definitely seen the looks that passed between Kitty and Matt. Yes, he had, in fact, seen the young Marshal ogling her when she wasn't looking and sometimes even when she was. Doc knew that the lawman was attracted to her, but Matt always said he would never mix the badge and a permanent relationship. He had also noticed the lawman was mighty protective of the young woman. Matt backhanded more than one cowboy for getting out of line with her. Doc shook his head.

He sure could understand how Matt would be drawn to her. She had everything a man like him would want in a woman, courage, intelligence, compassion, and besides that she was beautiful-inside and out. He was a man and he understood that Matt needed a woman in his life. He needed someone he loved and who loved him, but beyond that, he needed a strong woman who could comfort him when he was hurt, when he failed to meet his own expectations as a lawman, when he was forced to kill. Maybe most importantly, he needed a woman who could stand on her own when he wasn't around. One thing for sure, it would take a special kind of woman to accept Matt the way he was.

But, it couldn't be a one-way street. Matt couldn't just take and not give. He hoped to hell that Matt hadn't just been using her to fulfill a need. Surely, he wouldn't do that. Kitty was Matt's friend, and Doc always thought Matt was a man who took his honor seriously, valued it. But Matt had plainly said more than once that he did not want a permanent relationship with a woman. Doc just wouldn't like it one bit if Matt was taking advantage of her. No, he wouldn't like it, not one little bit. Kitty was much too fine of a woman for Matt to dally with.

Doc knew women were attracted to Matt. He'd seen it often enough. Matt had a power over women, although most of the time he seemed strangely oblivious to their attentions. Doc figured it was a combination of his good looks, the strength and power he wielded, and his inexplicably kind nature. But, wanting Matt was one thing, having him would be quite another. Oh, Matt was a good man for sure, but Doc knew that a relationship with him could bring a woman an awful lot of pain. Besides that, Matt wasn't the kind of man that wanted any strings on him.

Doc was close to Kitty. In the couple of years she'd been in Dodge, they'd become good friends. She was just a fine young woman. She'd had a hard life, but she never complained. She did what it took to survive and ultimately to flourish. She had a big heart, a big smile, and a big laugh. He couldn't be more proud of her when she saved enough money to buy half the Long Branch than if she was his own daughter.

Doc wanted good things for Kitty. She deserved them, but he'd seen that look in her eye when she looked at Matt, the look that spoke of infatuation and maybe something more. He'd warned her early on that Matt wasn't the kind of man to tolerate strings, that the badge on his shirt represented about all the commitment he was capable of. Yes sir, when that overgrown civil servant got back, he was going to have a talk with him. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes tiredly, if he got back.

Chester interrupted Doc's musings. "Doc, as soon as those Pinkerton men leave with the prisoners, I'll be heading out to find Mr. Dillon. I promise you, I'll find him if it's the last thing I do."

"I think that's a good idea, but you just be careful out there, you hear." He squinted up at the young jailer and gave some thought to the matter. "You ought to try to get a few men to go with you. It'll be safer, and you'll be able to cover more ground. While you're waiting for the Pinkertons to leave, you best send a telegram to Sheriff Winslow and let him know when Matt left here and that you're going to start looking for him."

Chester agreed and, eager to make his preparations, left Doc sitting alone at the table.

Doc wasn't sure it was a good idea, but he decided to give Kitty some time to pull herself together and then go up and see if she would talk to him. He also wanted to give her some powders. He could tell she hadn't been sleeping. He motioned to Sam, asked him to bring him a beer. Even for him, it was too damn early to be drinking whiskey. He slowly drank his beer and worried. He'd miss Matt Dillon more than he wanted to admit if he didn't make it back.

In the years Matt had been in Dodge, Doc had come to respect the young Marshal. When he first rode into Dodge with that shiny new badge on his chest, Doc didn't have much hope for him surviving his first month. Truth was, he thought he was an arrogant young pup, but it didn't take him long to find the compassionate man that lived under that hard, taciturn lawman's façade and to learn that he was smart enough, tough enough, and yes, even kind enough to handle the job. Matt brought law to Dodge and made it a place that decent people could live. He learned that Matt was a good man who had put on the badge for all the right reasons, but for a man like that, the mistakes he made, the things he saw, and the things he did as a lawman weighed heavy on him.

Doc tried to be a friend, someone Matt could come to when he needed to talk, and Matt did come to him when he needed a friend, but he never was much for talking. But sometimes, Doc talked, and Matt listened. Doc was fond of the determined young man, fonder than he liked to admit, and it hadn't been long before Matt became an important part of his life. He filled the need in him for family. He knew Matt would die for him and he for Matt. If he ever doubted that, Matt proved it when that shotgun-toting outlaw, Jed Butler, captured him, and Matt came to the rescue. Doc shook his head. It sure was lucky Jed hadn't been packing a double-barreled shotgun.

Doc chuckled humorlessly; he sometimes wished he hadn't gotten so close to Matt, because, if he was honest with himself, he knew Matt's life choices could end in loss and suffering, not just for any woman in his life, but for him as well. And it pained him to know that, as a doctor, the day might come when Matt was hurt, and his skills as doctor just weren't enough to save him.

Matt led a dangerous life and his dedication to the law never let him take the easy way. They said a man could pick his friends, but not his family. Doc wasn't sure that was true; sometimes your friends just picked you. And sometimes, friends became family. He just had to keep his faith. Matt had been in plenty of tough spots, and he'd always managed to survive. Doc was counting on him to keep on surviving.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Although it was still pitch black in the cave, Matt figured it must be close to noon. If he had the time and day right, Floyd should have hung this morning. As far as he was concerned, the man was living on borrowed time now.

Matt knew he was having trouble staying awake, found himself drifting from time to time, but he didn't think he'd let the hours, or even the days, get away from him. Also, Caleb hadn't brought him anything to eat yet, at least not that he could remember. He'd been surprised that the boy took care to see that he didn't miss any meals. He couldn't say they were decent meals, but at least Caleb saw to it he didn't starve.

He was definitely getting weaker by the hour, and he could feel the heat from his side and the growing fever in his head. It was getting harder to think. In his less optimistic moments it occurred to him that, if Floyd didn't get around to killing him pretty soon, he might just deprive him of the opportunity by dying on his own. But even as the thought occurred to him, he pushed it away. Matt wasn't the kind of man to look at the negative side of his circumstances, and he didn't plan to start being that kind of man now. Somehow, he would find a way to survive and to bring Floyd Dunbar to justice. He'd promised Kitty he would do everything in his power to get back to her, and he would.

With Cass and Jeb both gone to Dodge on their mission to find a buyer for him, he needed to try to take control here, and he needed a plan. Problem was even making it to his feet was going to be a problem, never mind taking on Floyd and Caleb. But he would do it. Giving up just wasn't in him.

To be continued…


	14. Chapter 14

" _Even a successful war is a loss to most families."_

Edward Counsel, Maxims

Chapter 14: Trouble Comes to Dodge

Deciding he'd waited long enough, Doc rose to his feet and slowly climbed the stairs to Kitty's room. He knocked softly, "Kitty, it's Doc."

She opened the door. Her eyes, despite being blood shot and red-rimmed were now dry, although her face paint was streaked from the tears. "I'm sorry about running up here like that, Doc. I've just been so worried, and I was hoping for good news. Matt and I have gotten to be real good friends, and that telegram just hit me all wrong."

Doc managed a weak smile. "That's ok, Kitty. We're all on edge and worried, but we have to try to hang on to our confidence in Matt."

"Oh Doc, I know that. I'm sorry I let my emotions get away that way. You know, I can take care of myself. And, if I'm going to be good friends with Matt, I'm going to have to learn to handle things like this. I can't be one of those girls that just cries at the drop of a hat."

Doc chuckled without humor and thought to himself, yup, Kitty and Matt could both take care of themselves, but Dodge was a mighty rough town, and both of them had mighty tough jobs. He settled for agreeing, "Yeah Kitty, and being friends with Matt isn't the easiest thing in the world. He's gone an awful lot of the time, and danger walks with him." He watched her carefully as he added, "He's already lived longer than most anyone expected." He wasn't surprised to see her flinch and wondered again exactly what she meant by being "real good friends" with Matt. "We just have to figure he's gonna keep on beating the odds. I brought you up some powders to help you sleep."

"No thanks, Doc. I am going to freshen up and go back downstairs. I've got a business to run, you know."

He smiled a genuine smile this time. Maybe she wasn't going to take his powders, but he could see that she had pulled herself together. He thought to himself, yet again, that she was still practically a girl, but despite that she was one tough woman. He guessed she had to be to make it in the kind of business she was in. "Yeah, I know that, Kitty. Maybe I'll see you downstairs tonight?"

She smiled. "Sure thing, Doc. I'll be there." She watched him leave and then sat down at her vanity to repair her face paint and soothe her eyes with a moist cloth. She had told Matt she was a strong, independent woman who made her own decisions, and the first time he comes up late, she falls apart. She made a vow to herself right then that, from now on, if she had to cry, she would shed her tears in the privacy of her rooms. Matt needed her to be strong, and she would be. Kitty Russell wouldn't let herself fall apart like that again. She reminded herself, us Russells are proud… and strong.

XXXXXXXXXX

Doc was on his way down the stairs when he saw Chester at the bar drinking a beer. He walked over to join him and asked when he planned to leave.

"Well, Doc, we're already to go soon as those Pinkertons leave. The horses are waiting over at the jail. I sent a telegram to the Sheriff in Hays letting him know when Mr. Dillon had left and that I was taking some men out to search for him. A few of Jake Worth's hands are gonna ride out with me, at least for the first day or so. The Pinkertons plan to have those prisoners outta the jail by 10:30, so we'll be leaving in just a few minutes. I'm heading over to the jail now and make sure they don't need anything afore they leave."

"Do you have any plan for finding Matt?"

Chester was obviously a little peeved at what he perceived as Doc's lack of confidence in him. "Well, uh course I do, Doc. I'm just gonna follow the trail that me and Mr. Dillon always take when we're escorting a prisoner to Hays. I figure time's important, so we're gonna be moving fast as we can and then stop and look real close at the spots where Mr. Dillon usually stops to rest the horses and things like that. We should be able to find some sign of him and Dunbart at those places cause most of em are protected like, so's the wind wouldn't get to em so good. We'll just keep a sharp lookout for anything out of the ordinary is all. Not much sense in looking for tracks in the in between times. That wind that was a blowin up until last night will have wiped them out. I promise you this Doc, if Mr. Dillon is out there, I'll find em, no matter what.

For once, Doc hadn't meant for his comment to be disparaging. He just wanted to have some idea what Chester would be doing. It didn't seem like a particularly great plan, but he had to admit he didn't have a better one. "That sounds like a real good plan, Chester. And I know you'll find him..." He gave a sharp nod of his head. "I'm counting on you. You be careful though, because that Floyd Dunbart could be dangerous if he's on the loose out there. "

Chester pulled himself up straight. "I sure will, Doc. I'll see ya as soon as I get back." And with those words he left on his mission.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Neither Doc nor Chester noticed the nondescript Texan bellied-up to the bar who took such careful note of their conversation, and neither had any idea that he had made it his business to pay particular attention to Chester and any friends Chester seemed to have. The man figured he'd already gotten some valuable information, and he only arrived in town about 15 minutes earlier. Floyd had specifically mentioned that Chester was the jailer and a friend of that turncoat lawman. Floyd had also told him Chester had a gimp leg and would be easy to find, and that had been true too. Cass figured that any friends of Chester might also be friends of the Marshal and it looked like he was right about that. The Doc here was a friend of Chester's and, it seemed, a friend of the Marshal's as well.

For a minute, Cass thought maybe he found his buyer, him being a doctor and all. But after a cursory examination of the Doc's scuffed shoes, his worn trousers, and the unmended hole in his coat sleeve, he concluded that it wasn't likely this particular doctor had much in the way of financial resources. He would wait and hope for a better target. With Chester leaving, he figured he'd shift his attention to the Doc here to help him identify potential ransom payers. Even if he didn't have any of his own money, the doctor would surely associate with some of the wealthier citizens of this town.

Chester leaving town in search of the Marshal wasn't overly worrisome. Cass didn't figure there was much chance of him finding anything out there. The wind had cleared away any tracks there were, and by now the Marshal and his other two boys should be well hidden in that cave Floyd knew about, and they were a long way from where they'd ambushed that Marshal. Cass didn't think that Chester seemed all that competent anyway. He seemed real sincere, but just not that bright. Cass shook his head. That Marshal seemed to have himself some odd friends, a lame assistant and a Doc with no money. He sure hoped these weren't the man's only friends, but it wouldn't surprise him too much.

There was a small chance that Chester might run up on Jeb with the Marshal's big buckskin, but he'd told Jeb that if something like that happened, he should just say he found the buckskin out on the prairie and was just bringing him in to Dodge. Jeb shouldn't be too much longer getting here. In the meantime, he figured he'd just enjoy a beer or two.

He was enjoying his third beer when one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen came down the stairs. She was wearing a dress that could knock a man's eyes out, and he watched as she gracefully crossed the room, nodding and speaking to the customers before stopping at the bar. Even though she was in a saloon, she seemed like a fine lady. She motioned to the bartender, "Sam, how about a whiskey."

The bartender smiled broadly, clearly glad to see the young woman. "Coming right up, Miss Kitty," he responded as he filled a glass and handed it to her. Cass thought Kitty seemed like an unusual name for a woman.

Cass couldn't help but notice that this woman's hair was the exact same shade of red as his beloved wife's. His countenance temporarily softened as he smiled in remembrance of her. He loved Agnes more than life, and she bore him four fine sons. She'd been born in Ireland and come to America and then west with her family. He loved her from the moment he saw her, couldn't believe it when she consented to be his wife. Then his expression hardened as he thought of his life without her.

Dillon had taken her from him, and he would pay. He had taken her and his son Harold. Not only that, but he destroyed Floyd. Before the war, Floyd had been a fine young man. What Dillon did to Floyd was maybe worse than what he did to Harold. After Dillon finished with him, Floyd came back to him and his mother mean and filled with hate. He tried to protect him and look out for him, but it was just no use. His son was ruined, and it was Dillon's fault. Now Dillon would finally pay.

Cass felt a twinge of guilt for this part of it though. Dillon deserved to die and he would feel no remorse for Floyd killing him. The man was cruel and had as good as murdered his boy, had murdered other good men that day, and he deserved to be punished. But Cass knew stealing was wrong. He soothed his conscience with the notion that whomever he took the money from was a friend of that traitor, and he deserved to pay for the succor he gave to a murderer.

He finished off the remainder of his third beer and ordered a fourth. He knew it wasn't like him to have more than one, but this business was hard. He needed the money to get Floyd somewhere safe. Kansas law said his boy should hang, and much as he hated the truth of it, he knew that Floyd deserved it. He'd been in court and heard the testimony. It pained him that his boy had killed like that, but he also knew Floyd was sick. All these years since the war, he managed to keep Floyd home on his ranch. Still, Floyd had been in constant trouble, fighting and being a bully, but nothing Cass couldn't smooth over. Then he'd run off and gotten in this big trouble.

Cass had gotten a telegraph from Floyd out of Jetmore saying he was in a lot of trouble, on the run, and he needed help. Like always, he'd come, but before, it had always just been in their own town and nothing like this. When he and his sons finally got to Jetmore, they'd heard all the details of the robbery and the killing, and that the marshal out of Dodge had been trailing Floyd for weeks and finally arrested him somewhere down in the Indian Territories and brought him back to Dodge. Floyd must have been trying to get home. He soon learned his son was scheduled for trial in Dodge in two days. The witnesses to the robbery were leaving in the morning to testify. Cass and his sons headed out for Dodge as well, figuring that somehow or other they'd get Floyd free of the law. But when he learned the marshal taking his boy to hang was Matthew Dillon, it changed everything. He wanted that man dead. And then, when Dillon survived the ambush, he thought of this ransom idea to get some money.

If he could get this ransom money, he'd take Floyd down to Mexico and they'd buy a small farm. He was sure they could make a go of it, and Floyd would be safe there. As his Father, he owed Floyd that, and he knew that, unless he got him to Mexico, the law would find him and hang him for sure.

The war had cost him too much. Cass knew it had cost some men more. Some lost their homes, whole families, limbs, and lives. He should be grateful for what he had left, but the war still cost him more than he had been willing to pay. He'd joined up at the beginning. He'd been a Texas Ranger and had experience leading men. They made him a Captain right off. Then Jeb had joined up, and, eventually, Harold and Floyd had enlisted. Harold and Floyd were both been assigned to the same unit. Harold was only 17, just a year older than Caleb was now, too young for the horrors of war, but he hadn't been able to stop him, and the south was desperate for soldiers. He'd made Floyd promise to look out for his little brother. He remembered how proud Floyd had been, how he'd promised his Ma that he'd look out for Harold. He never should have asked that promise of Floyd. He regretted that a lot.

He checked the clock on the Long Branch wall. It was nearly noon. Jeb would be here soon. He wished he hadn't brought Jeb and Caleb along. Jeb was his oldest and Caleb the youngest. Both were good boys, well Jeb was a man, but Cass still thought of them as his boys. Jeb had a wife and baby daughter back at their small ranch in Texas. He was going to send Jeb and Caleb home soon; he didn't want them having a part in the killing of that U.S. Marshal. He hadn't known about Dillon when they left Texas. Jeb and Caleb would be able to make a go of it. Jeb had a good head on his shoulders and was smart. Caleb was still young, but he was a clear thinker and had a good heart. Both of them were hard workers.

He and Floyd would do the killing. Floyd was already lost and he, himself, needed to be a part of it, figured he owed it to Agnes and Harold and even Floyd. It saddened him to think of not seeing his granddaughter again and not seeing Caleb come to full manhood. Maybe they could come visit him and Floyd in Mexico…if the law didn't catch them. He knew once they killed that Marshal, the law was going to want them real bad. He sighed, figured too much beer and seeing that woman who reminded him of his Agnes had made him maudlin. He was pulled from his reflections when Jeb came up next to him.

"Hey Pa, what you thinking about? Looked like you were miles away."

Cass smiled, glad to have his eldest son back at his side. "Good to see ya, Jeb. I wasn't thinking much except I was lucky to have you boys as my sons. Did you let the horse go?"

"Sure did, Pa and he seemed real anxious to get here. Fact is I pushed my horse pretty hard to be sure to get here ahead of him."

"Yeah, that horse knows where his stall is, and he'll be anxious to get to it. All we have to do now is wait and watch. We'll see if anybody's real upset with him coming home without his rider." Then he looked up and ordered a beer for his boy. The two of them wandered off to a corner table, beers in hand, to wait for that big horse to arrive. They'd barely gotten seated when they heard the commotion outside that announced the big buckskin's arrival.

To be continued…


	15. Chapter 15

" _If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart. I'll stay there forever."_

A.A. Milne

Chapter 15

A Horse Without a Rider

Doc was walking along Front Street towards his office when he saw Buck cantering down Front Street towards the stable, watched as one of the men loitering in front of the Long Branch stepped out and pulled him to a halt. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he hurried his pace and intercepted Kitty just as she exited the Long Branch. He grasped her arm, whispered in her ear, "Just let's not jump to any conclusions."

Doc could hear bits and pieces of the comments swirling through the crowd gathering around the horse. "Marshal's horse." "Blood." "Something must have happened to the Marshal." "That damn Dunbart musta made good on his threat." Doc wished he could shield Kitty from the words. While it hadn't been meant for his ears, he heard her softly reassure herself. "Us Russells are proud…and strong."

When the crowd saw her and Doc approaching, they cleared a path, acknowledging these two as among the Marshal's closest friends. As they got nearer, Kitty stumbled, near fell, but pulled herself straight. Doc looked into her eyes. They were midnight blue and as hard as diamonds. Doc pulled his eyes away from the glittering hardness, escorted her up to Buck who stood still and patient.

Doc watched as Kitty's eyes were drawn to the large scarlet handprint on Buck's neck. She traced it and fitted her own hand inside the much larger print. Then she reached out and touched the dried rust-colored stains on the side of Matt's saddle. She looked up and saw the glistening wet blood on the reins and the horn of the saddle, saw that it had dripped down to cover the pommel.

Doc shook his head, so much blood. Kitty reached up to handle the reins, to touch the horn, and to drag her hand over the pommel, feeling the sticky wetness. Doc heard her sharp, deep intake and release of breath as she looked at the red sticky liquid staining her palm and fingers. Then she pulled her arm free of Doc's support and walked back through the Long Branch doors, alone.

Doc turned to Burke and asked him to take Buck down to the stable, and have Moss see to him. Then he slowly followed in Kitty's wake, climbing up the stairs to her room even as he watched the door close behind her for the second time today. This time he didn't even bother to knock but just followed her in. This time she was shedding no tears. She looked him straight in the eye. "If Matt doesn't come back, I'm going to kill Floyd Dunbart."

Doc tried to take her in his arms to comfort her, but she stepped away, refusing him. "I'll be fine, but I'd like to be alone now." There was something frightening about her behavior. There were no tears, no obvious feelings of sadness that Matt was almost certainly at least badly injured and possibly dead. She had subjugated the normal feelings of loss, grief, and pain to hate.

Doc stepped away, honoring her request. "Ok, honey. But I'll be back later to check on you. Just don't give up hope; Matt's got a way of beating the odds. And Kitty, if there is anything positive about that blood at all, it's that, if it is Matt's blood, he's still alive, or hasn't been…" He trailed off, shook his head. "Well, he couldn't be too far from here." He took a long breath and slowly stepped away, closed the door, and climbed down the stairs. Ignoring the chaos that had moved from the street and into the Long Branch, he slowly exited through the batwing doors and went to his office. He too needed to be alone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cass and Jeb had gone back into the saloon along with the others and now stood quietly listening to the talk that swirled in the wake of the Marshal's horse arriving back in town without Dillon. The outpouring of concern for the missing lawman surprised them. They thought a man like him would be some kind of gun-wielding despot, that the town would be happy to be rid of him, but that didn't seem to be the case. These men seemed to respect the man. A lot of the talk was selfish talk as men wondered what would become of them and their businesses without the Marshal walking the streets. There was a lot of bad talk about Floyd too. Well Cass didn't much care what these men thought. He just needed someone who not only had money but also would be willing to part with it to save that murdering turncoat.

He figured he'd found that person, but it didn't set right with him that it was a woman. Kitty Russell. Her name was on the sign outside, Russell and Pence. Based on that sign and her fine clothes, she had the money, and it looked to him like she might be willing to spend it to get the Marshal back. He salved his conscience by assuring himself that she would never be in any danger. It was painful to him though, especially seeing that hair that reminded him so much of his Agnes.

He and Jeb took a seat at one of the empty tables in the corner of the Saloon. He looked over at Jeb. "What do you think, son?"

Jeb met his gaze, "I think it's gotta be that woman, Pa." He shook his head in amazement. "Pa, her eyes were so hard. Did you see how she reacted to his blood on that saddle? I could almost feel the air crackling." He took a deep breath, concern coloring his voice. "Thing is, Pa, when she walked by us, and I looked in her eyes, I didn't see grief. All I saw was hate."

"Yeah, it was something strange to see. But, from the talk I heard, she's real good friends with the lawman. And while I'm not sure what might be between them, something sure is.

"Yeah, there is sure something there all right." Jeb agreed. Ya know, Pa, Floyd got into it with that lawman this morning, right after you left."

Cass, cocked his eyebrow. "Floyd didn't kill him or nothing did he? Ain't the time for that yet."

"No, Pa. Fact is, bad hurt as he was, that Marshal almost killed Floyd. Probably would have, if I hadn't stepped in." Jeb took a breath, met his Father's eyes. "Somethin ain't right about this, Pa."

"Jeb, we're too far into this now, son, to start having doubts. We dealt ourselves this hand, and now we play it."

Jeb nodded his assent. "I know."

Cass had to admit that he was having some misgivings himself, but like he just told Jeb, they were in it now, and they were gonna have to finish the hand. Life was like that often enough. "We just have to figure how to get the note to her. Let's order a couple of beers and see what happens."

XXXXXXXXXX

Following Doc's departure, Kitty rinsed Matt's blood from her hand and watched as it drifted in the water and finally settled to the bottom of the small white porcelain bowl. She left it, not able to dump that reminder of his life and the proof of his tenacious struggle to stay alive.

She took a deep breath, sat down at the vanity, and looked into the mirror. She could feel the tears fighting to be freed, but she was determined that she would not cry. She refused to believe Matt was dead. He promised to do everything in his power to come home to her, and she was holding him to that promise. She had to believe he still lived, was certain that to accept the possibility of his death would almost be like giving him permission to die. A part of her was sure she would know if he was dead, because she believed the best part of her would die with him, and how could you not know when a piece of you died?

She loved Matt from the moment she saw him. She didn't know how such a thing could be possible, wouldn't have believed it was possible if it hadn't happened to her. After seeing him only once, she cashed in her stage ticket and stayed in this town in the middle of nowhere in the hope that he might realize he loved her too, and finally, he had. She smiled to herself. He could be a little slow about things sometimes, especially women.

Her love for Matt was absolute, and, to her, he was the finest, bravest man that ever lived, but it wasn't always easy loving him. Matt was a paradoxical man that valued both his obligations and his freedom. She didn't think any woman could ever really tame him, and the truth was, she didn't want to tame him. She understood that, for now, at least, he was dedicated to his badge and enforcing the law that it represented, no matter the personal danger or sacrifice.

She had to share him with that shiny shield on his chest, and sometimes it took more of him than she liked. She understood the good Matt did in its name, but sometimes she was still a little jealous of it. It was always with him, near his heart, and she was often left behind to worry, like now. That badge led him away from her and into danger, but in a peculiar sort of way, she hoped it would protect him.

There were times when Matt hurt her by keeping things from her, and he sure wasn't as attentive as she would like. It had only been two months since he promised her his love, his heart, and his body, but already there were unexpected trips out of town and, even when he was in town, frequent interruptions of their plans. Just having a whole meal with him was an unexpected pleasure. He told her it would be like that, and she already had enough experience with him to know the truth of it.

Matt didn't talk much, and sometimes she felt like he shut her out, hid his worries and pain. It wasn't easy for him to let anyone past that hard lawman's veneer he showed the world. When he was hurting on the inside, he could be distant and moody. Sometimes he came to her broken in spirit, seeking solace and healing, and still, he would keep the reasons for his pain to himself. Even when the injuries were physical and plain for anyone to see he tried to conceal them from her. He was getting better about sharing, but it hurt when he closed himself off from her.

But the one thing she was absolutely certain of was that Matt loved her more than life, and that he was completely faithful to her. Matt Dillon didn't do anything halfway and that included loving her. Oh, after that first night, when he finally overcame his self-imposed edict to stay free of a relationship with her and acknowledged that he loved her and wanted to be with her, he didn't have a lot to say about it. He made up his mind, and for him, that was it. But she could feel his love, see it in his eyes every time he saw her. When they were alone, he showed it openly and often spoke the simple words, "I love you." He wasn't much for talking, but when he said those words, she could feel that he meant them with all of his being. And when he made love to her, he made her feel like she was the most desirable, perfect, wonderful woman in the world.

She knew he would step in front of a bullet for her, even though keeping a dinner date could be a challenge, and as much as his overprotectiveness could raise her temper, there was a part of her that loved him for it. Even now, when he was far from the safety of her embrace and in mortal danger, she could feel his love, and she wrapped it around herself like a comforting blanket. A woman could forgive a man an awful lot when he gave her the kind of unconditional love that Matt gave her.

Matt had been gone for over three weeks chasing Floyd Dunbart, three weeks out of the two months since she and Matt openly acknowledged their love for one another. And now, she couldn't help wishing Matt hadn't caught that hateful man, and, even more desperately, she wished he hadn't tried to take him to Hays alone. She hated Floyd Dunbart taking even one more moment of Matt's life. She desperately wanted him back. Matt had warned her that she could lose him, but it couldn't be now; two months was barely a beginning.

Until she had absolute proof to the contrary, she would believe Matt was coming home to her. And if he didn't, somehow she would find a way to kill Floyd Dunbart. The other absolute certainty was that no matter where he was or what happened to him, Matt would live in her heart forever, in that place where she kept him safe.

She checked her reflection one more time, made sure that her hair and paint were flawless. Then she set her jaw and walked out of her room onto the upper balcony.

She was aware of the sudden lull in the conversation when she appeared at the top of the stairs. She ignored the incongruous silence and the stares as she elegantly descended to the main floor, moved across the room, and took her accustomed place at the bar. Gradually the conversations resumed, although she suspected the topic had changed. She spoke to some of the regulars and had Sam draw a beer for her. She sipped at the beer till it was half gone. Then, feeling she had made her point, she called Sam over again. "I'lI be working in my office if anyone needs me," and with those words she gracefully crossed the room and entered her office, softly closing the door behind her.

Cass and Jeb watched from their table. Jeb finally broke the silence. "I don't know, Pa, you think that woman will pay to have that Marshal back?"

Cass had taken a deep breath and considered the question. "I hope so son, because I sure need that money, but I have to admit her behavior isn't exactly what I would expect from a woman facing the probable loss of her man, or at least a close friend. It worries me a little too that I can't see what a woman like her would see in a man like Dillon. Anyways, we are running out of time and options. I am going to slip the note under that door. You go on and leave. I'll meet you outside shortly."

With Jeb gone, Cass walked across the room trying to be inconspicuous. He paused briefly outside the office door, dropped the envelope to the floor, and pushed it under the door with his boot before continuing on his way. He quickly joined Jeb across the street. "OK, let's see what happens next."

The two men were a little disturbed to see Doc enter the saloon about half an hour after they left the note. He was carrying his doctor bag. Both men knew that, if she was going to share the contents of the note, it was with him that she would most likely share it, and that could be a problem. They breathed a sigh of relief when, after only about ten minutes, he came back out the doors. It didn't appear that anything out of the ordinary had happened. Although instead of heading towards his office, he headed towards the livery.

A few minutes later, they saw the woman leave the saloon and hurry down the boardwalk to the bank. She was in there for about fifteen minutes, then came back out and re-entered the Long Branch.

"Well son, it looks like maybe she's going to do it. Let's get out of here and make sure everything else is ready."

To be continued…


	16. Chapter 16

" _What's the difference?" I asked him. "Between the love of your life, and your soulmate?"_ _  
_ _"One is a choice, and one is not."_

Tarryn Fisher, Mud Vein

Chapter 16: At Any Price

Kitty hadn't been in her office very long when she noticed the envelope on the floor. Curious, she quickly opened it, baffled by its unexplained appearance, and wondering who would be leaving a letter under her door. Shock, anger, worry, and euphoria all battled for control of her beleaguered emotions as she read the enclosed note. Someone wanted her to pay for Matt's return. Her heart was pounding as she considered the possible ramifications.

Her first thought was that the note meant Matt was alive, but she quickly realized that a ransom note really meant nothing except that someone wanted money for someone you desperately wanted back. Matt taught her that. She thought about his blood-covered saddle. Matt could already be dead, or they could kill him once the ransom was delivered. She discounted both of these thoughts immediately as counterproductive and unacceptable. She had to believe he was still alive, and that he was going to stay that way. This ransom note was a chance, and even a small chance lifted her spirits. One thing for sure, it meant there was something she could do besides moping around here wallowing in her fear for him.

She knew Matt didn't believe in paying ransoms, but Kitty didn't care. He meant far more to her than any amount of money. The money was irrelevant. Only his life mattered. She started with nothing, and she could start that way again.

The worry was that Matt always insisted that once a ransom was paid, there was no reason to keep the kidnapped person alive. That was the scary part of paying the ransom. But when she thought about it, she didn't figure there would be much interest in keeping him alive if no one paid the ransom either. Of course she couldn't imagine Floyd Dunbart wanted him alive no matter what.

She quickly decided paying the ransom wouldn't decrease his chances and might give her a chance to find the men, or man, who had him , and maybe they would lead her to Matt. And she didn't care about the risk to herself. If they killed him, she didn't care if they killed her too, and she sure as hell didn't care if she lost the money.

The note expected the ransom to be delivered before dark, and it was already after four. Just as she was about to go rushing out, she heard a knock on the door.

"Kitty, it's me, Doc. Can I come in?"

She took a deep breath, reined in her runaway emotions. "Sure, Doc, c'mon in."

Doc stepped into the room and closed the door. His sharp eyes searched her face. "I um thought I'd find you upstairs, but Bill said you were in here."

"Yeah, the walls were closing in on me up there. I just wanted to get out, get my mind off… well, I just thought I'd come down here and work on the books."

Doc raised his eyebrow, a suspicious look on his face. "Are you all right, Kitty?"

"Yeah, Doc. I'm fine. Well as fine as I can be… considering everything." Kitty could tell she wasn't being very successful in allaying Doc's fears, but she just didn't know what else to say.

With few options, he seemed to finally accept her assurances at face value. "Kitty, I'm real sorry to have to do this, but Mrs. Hoffmeir is apparently going into labor. Her oldest boy just came by my office to get me. She hasn't been well and is getting on in years to be having a baby, so I need to get on out there."

Kitty offered him a weak smile, was anxious to reassure him that she would be fine. "That's ok, Doc. I understand."

"I don't like leaving you alone like this one bit, especially with Chester gone and… and who knows what else going on. I don't suppose you'd like to come along and maybe help me deliver this baby?"

"Oh no, Doc. I just couldn't. I'm so very tired. I'll be fine."

Doc pulled at his mustache considering her answer. "How about if I leave you some sleeping powders?"

Kitty thought over her answer, trying to give the one that would be least likely to further arouse his suspicions. "That would be fine, Doc. I don't think I'll be needing them, but it will be good to know I have them if I do." She could tell that he was worried about her, but she also knew he had to go. He was the only doctor, and Mrs. Hoffmeir needed him.

He opened his bag and rummaged around before finally proffering the sleeping powders. "Just dissolve one in a glass of water. I'll get back as soon as I can, probably be sometime tomorrow."

"Ok, I'll see you then." On hearing those parting words from Kitty, Doc hurried out the door anxious to get to his patient.

As soon as she was sure he was gone, Kitty rushed down to the bank to get the requested amount of money. Unfortunately, that did not go as well as she hoped. Mr. Bodkin would only give her $500 even though she offered her half of the Long Branch as collateral. That was a long way from the $4,000 they wanted. He told he didn't see a problem with the loan, but he would need to get the loan approved by the parent bank in Topeka. She asked if there was anyway around that, but that started him asking questions about why she needed that much money so quickly. Fearing his obviously already aroused suspicions, she quickly tried to smooth things over. "Never mind, Mr. Bodkin. I was looking into some major renovations for the Long Branch and just wondered how quickly I might be able to get the capital. I think the $500 you have provided will be plenty for me to get started. Thank you, again."

He gave her a very strange look as she stuffed the money in her reticule. As she made her way out of the bank she could feel his eyes following her. She imagined he probably thought it odd she was planning a renovation the same day Matt's horse came in with blood all over the saddle, but at least he didn't know just how good of friends she and Matt were.

Once back in her room, she laid the ransom note out on her bed and reread it carefully, wanting to make sure she understood the instructions.

" _I have Matt Dillon. He is hurt. If you want to see him alive bring $4000. Come alone or I will kill anyone with you and Dillon. Take Jetmore Trail. Take the first cutoff that goes east. Leave the money in the stove at the old Smith farmhouse. It is the only house on that trail. Go back to Dodge. You will hear from me. Be there before dark."_ There was also a rough map drawn at the bottom of the note.

She was pretty sure she knew the farmhouse they were talking about and she definitely knew the trail to Jetmore. She was certain she could find it easily.

She wouldn't let herself consider that Matt might already be dead. Instead she concentrated on Doc's words, that if that was Matt's blood, and Kitty was sure it was, then he couldn't be too far from Dodge. She worried over not being able to get the whole ransom, but while she hadn't thought of it before, maybe only having $500 was smart. Maybe it would give her a chance to bargain, to keep Matt alive. She could tell them she could get the rest, that she just needed time. At least she could tell them that if she saw them, and she very much wanted to see them, and Matt, no matter the danger for her.

Anyway, there wasn't any sense worrying over things she couldn't change. She had no options. She would follow their instructions and leave the $500 Mr. Bodkin gave her. She would just have to see what happened next. She admitted to herself that a lot of this didn't make sense. Floyd Dunbart didn't seem capable of thinking something like this up, but she still had to go through with it. If there was any chance of saving Matt, she had to take it.

But the more she thought about it, the more she thought she should hedge her bet somehow. She finally decided to leave a note for Doc letting him know where she was going. But she needed to make sure he didn't get it too soon. She didn't want to scare the kidnapper and get Matt killed. She needed to be smart, to think this through.

Her mind made up, she wrote a note explaining what she was doing and put it and the ransom note in an envelope which she gave to Sam along with instructions to give it to Doc tomorrow afternoon, but not until after three. By then, she should either be back, or things had probably gone wrong. She was sure Sam would do as she asked. She also told him she was going upstairs and would be sleeping in the following day and didn't wish to be disturbed.

Once back in her room, she dressed in her boots, an old pair of baggy jeans she sometimes wore on cleaning days, and her lucky flannel fishing shirt. She would need to ride hard, and this was no time for fancy clothes. She took the pins out of her hair and pulled it back, fastening it to keep it out of her eyes. She finished her outfit off with an old brown slouch hat that had somewhat mysteriously been left in her room. It was a little big, but it effectively covered her hair and obscured her face. After a moment of thought, she rifled through her top drawer and grabbed the small derringer that Matt had given her for her birthday and slid it deep into the right front pocket of her jeans. She then took a moment to stuff her long red hair under her shirt before sneaking out the back door and into the alley, taking the back way down to the stable. She selected one of the saddles Moss used for his rental horses, saddled her sorrel, and rode out of Dodge, hoping no one gave her a second look. She felt fortunate in not encountering anyone in the stable.

Anxious to get the ransom delivered, she rode hard until she approached her destination. She slowed her horse to a walk and cautiously rode up to the old farmhouse. Exhausted and dust covered she carefully surveyed the area before dismounting. She knew it was foolish, but she hoped the kidnappers and, maybe even Matt might be there, but the place appeared abandoned. She quickly climbed down from her horse and placed the ransom money in the old stove as the note directed. With the ransom delivered and no sign of the kidnappers, her adrenaline rush dissipated and left her feeling wilted. She hadn't slept in days, but just then, it felt like weeks.

Still, intent on following the instructions in the note, she hauled herself back into the saddle and headed back towards Dodge. She was barely out of sight of the old farmhouse when a man riding a black horse with a white blaze suddenly appeared and grabbed the reins to her horse. Her instincts told her to run, to escape, but she suppressed them, certain that this was how the next step in rescuing Matt was supposed to go. She calmed her emotions, reminded herself that this was what she wanted. She just hoped this man didn't intend to kill her and Matt, especially considering she only left $500. She took a deep breath and set her jaw while she waited to see what happened next. Determined to show no fear, she faced the man squarely. "I left the ransom. Now I want Matt Dillon."

The man seemed to size her up, finally spoke. "Miss Russell, I promised, if you paid the money, you would see Matt Dillon alive. If you come now, I'll keep that promise." He then called to a second man some distance away. "You stay here as we agreed, and keep watch. No matter what, don't go near the farmhouse. I want to make sure that she hasn't somehow managed to set a trap. I'll be back tomorrow to get you and the money. I'll plan to head this way first thing in the morning." With those words he dropped her reins and started riding northeast.

She gathered the reins in her hands and urged her horse forward, anxious to keep up. With the promise of seeing Matt alive, her spirits soared. She was also relieved that they wouldn't be picking up the ransom until the next day, one more day before they knew she hadn't been able to raise the whole amount, not even almost the whole amount.

The longer they rode, the more exhausted she got. It seemed to her that they had been riding for hours and she was bone tired, but she was determined to keep up. They promised her she would see Matt, and that thought kept her going despite the exhaustion and deep ache in her muscles. She refused to consider the possibility that the man might just be leading her to her death.

She wondered who these men were. The one she was following was definitely not Floyd Dunbart, and she didn't think the one hiding in the shadows near the farmhouse had been him either. She wondered if these men were working with him or if it was just some strange coincidence that Matt had been taken by them. Maybe Dunbart was already dead. After all, Floyd Dunbart seemed to want only one thing, and that was to kill Matt. Ransom had not been part of his plan.

It was dark, and she was grateful for the full moon to see by as she hustled down the trail, determined to keep up with the man on the black horse. Then disaster struck; her horse stumbled slightly as it stepped in an unseen hole, and Kitty, already weakened by exhaustion, felt her foot slip from the stirrup. She could feel herself falling from the saddle, the pain of hitting the ground, and then nothing.

In her next moment of awareness she found herself in a strange man's arms; she guessed it was the man who was taking her to Matt. She reached up and felt the bandage on her head and the wetness of her blood. She mumbled, "You promised to take me to Matt."

Then, as she again drifted back into unconsciousness, she heard him whisper. "You can see him in the morning. Rest now."

To be continued…


	17. Chapter 17

" _You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them."_

Maya Angelou

Chapter 17: Cruelty and Compassion

Cass called out to let his sons know he was coming in before ducking into the cave, still carrying the unconscious woman. Answering the boys' unvoiced questions, he explained, "This is Kitty Russell of the Long Branch Saloon. She paid the ransom. I was bringing her here to see Dillon and she fell when her horse stumbled. She regained consciousness, seemed to know who she was and all, so I figure she'll be alright."

Even as he rushed in explaining everything, he gently laid the woman down on one of the blanket pallets. Unconscious she seemed so small and vulnerable, very different from the fiery woman he had seen following the arrival of that lawman's big buckskin in town. He quickly tied a blindfold over her closed eyes and covered her up to protect her from the chilly interior of the cave. He took a moment to smooth a few bright red strands of hair from her forehead. Her being injured had not been part of his plan. He was thankful the hurt seemed minor.

He considered her for a moment, then got up and got some rope and secured her. It felt wrong to him somehow to tie a woman, but her reaction to Dillon's blood on the saddle had unnerved him some, and, most importantly, he didn't want her taking the blindfold off. He figured she was a woman to be reckoned with. He motioned Caleb over. "I want you to keep an eye on her. Make sure she's ok and that she stays blindfolded."

Cass then picked up one of the lanterns, intent on checking on Dillon. He entered the small chamber and set down the lantern. He took a long look at his captive and retreated back into the main chamber. He gestured towards the small chamber where Matt was. "You boys come with me."

When Cass first entered, the man had been curled up on the floor of the cave with his arms wrapped around his head. But when Cass returned followed by his two sons, Dillon, apparently unwilling to show any more weakness than necessary, had pulled himself into a near sitting position, supported by the cave wall. He was squinting as his eyes tried to adjust to the unexpected light and he tried to focus on the three men entering his cave prison. Cass figured the man was glad to be able to see again, but after so many hours in the dark, the light was apparently an assault on his senses. Dillon raised his cuffed hands using one sleeve to swipe at the bloody gash over his brow. Cass couldn't miss the glassy look in his eyes.

The older man fixed his two sons with a disapproving glare. "All right boys, Dillon wasn't in great shape when I left, but he's worse. What happened?"

Floyd was quick with an answer. "He got Caleb's gun and tried to escape."

Cass turned to his other son. "Is that true, Caleb?"

"Yeah." The shame on the boy's face was clear. "Somehow he got to his feet, and when I came in to bring him his noon meal, I leaned over and set the lantern down. He jumped me from behind and got my gun. He pushed me against the cave wall and was using the chain on his cuffs to strangle me." Caleb reached up to rub his throat. "I couldn't breathe. I thought he was gonna kill me. Then all of sudden he stepped back and just shoved me down."

The image of Dillon strangling his youngest son with a chain unsettled Cass. He swallowed and tried to push the picture from his mind. "So then what happened?"

"Floyd came in right after that. He had his gun out and told Dillon to drop the gun and he did." Caleb took a deep breath and dropped his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry, Pa. I just didn't think he was up to trying something like that. I've been more careful since."

Cass nodded towards the bloodied prisoner. "How did he get in that shape?"

Floyd took a belligerent stance. "He tried to get my gun. There was fightin."

Cass directed his attention back to Caleb. "Caleb, how bout you tell me what happened, all of it."

Caleb nodded his head. "Floyd must have looked away or something. I don't know. I was still trying to catch my breath. Anyway, even though Floyd had a gun on him, Dillon went after Floyd and somehow… he got the gun. He hit Floyd and Floyd went down. By then, I was back to my feet and I tried to grab the gun from Dillon before he could use it. I did my best, but that lawman's strong, even half dead. I couldn't have matched him for more than seconds. Lucky that was long enough for Floyd to recover enough to yank Dillon's feet from under him. Dillon hit the cave floor hard and dropped the gun. I fell down with him, and I grabbed the gun and picked up my own too. I think hitting the ground kind of knocked him senseless. "

Cass saw Caleb eyes shift over to Floyd and then back at him. "Go on son. What happened next?

"You know, Floyd hates him something fierce. Well, Floyd just started punching him. I tried to pull Floyd away, but he wanted to kill him. I finally managed to get him up. I thought it was over. But when Floyd got to his feet he started kicking him. He wouldn't stop. Dillon curled up to protect his injured side." Caleb paused. "And then, well, Floyd kicked him in the head. That's where most of the blood and hurt come from." Caleb met his father's gaze. "He was unconscious all afternoon. He just come around a couple of hours ago. I'm sorry, Pa. It was all my fault."

Cass took a deep breath and rubbed his head. "Floyd, you got to control that temper, son. We got you free of this man and the hanging, but you just got to learn to control yourself. Go on, but leave the lantern. It ain't right to leave a man in the dark like that." With those words, the two boys left the chamber. Cass paused and took a good look at the lawman. Their eyes met briefly before Cass broke the contact and walked out. There was a part of him that was aggrieved by what he done to this man. Even worse was the feeling that Dillon was nothing like what he expected. He was tough. Not many men in his condition could have stayed on a horse for that long ride, and there'd been no complaining, or whining, or begging, and now this. He just wasn't the coward he expected.

XXXXXXXXXX

Matt looked around his prison. He was glad they'd left the lantern. He didn't much like being left in total darkness. He tried to shift a bit and find a more comfortable position for his battered body. It would be so much easier without these damn irons. Him wearing them made Floyd real happy.

He gambled on going after Caleb's gun when the boy brought the food to him; he was sure that was his best option for getting out of this, and he came damn close to succeeding. Of course, close only counted in horseshoes. If Floyd hadn't come in after Caleb, he would have made it. And even with Floyd in the mix, if he had taken Caleb out permanently when he had the chance, he'd be a free man now. It just hadn't been in him to do that. A man makes his dying by the way he lives.

No sense dwelling on ifs. He was still a prisoner and "ifs" didn't change that. He would just have to watch for another opportunity, but with Cass back, the odds were definitely worse now.

At least he mostly managed to protect his injured side from Floyd, but he had some painfully bruised ribs, and Floyd definitely did some serious damage to his head. The ribs he could deal with, but his head hurt so bad he was sick to his stomach, and he couldn't seem to think straight. The cold wetness of the cave that had, at first, been such a relief to him had now soaked into his core leaving him chilled and miserable. He couldn't quite figure out how he could be burning up with fever and freezing at the same time.

He'd tried to focus on what Cass was saying, but between the fever, the banging in his head, and the terrible dizziness, it was kind of a blur. He didn't think Cass said anything about how the ransoming was going. He did get that Cass wasn't happy about Floyd beating on him. It was strange. Floyd was mean clear through, but the others were nothing like that. They treated him decent, particularly, Caleb. Still, they all wanted him dead, held him accountable for some terrible thing he'd done during the war. Hell, it seemed to him that's all the war had been, one terrible thing after another. Somehow the key to this whole thing was his connection to Floyd. He was determined to get that piece of information. If they were going to kill him, he at least wanted to know why.

The only pieces to the puzzle that he had were that he was somehow responsible for Harold dying a terrible death, that he murdered some people, and he ruined Floyd. He certainly agreed Floyd was ruined, but he had no idea what his part in that had been. He was also responsible for the death of Cass's wife. Hell, he'd killed a lot of men in that war, and he just couldn't remember if he killed one named Harold. Sadly, he'd probably killed more than one called Harold. Most of the men he'd killed were anonymous men in gray, or butternut coats. He didn't murder anyone, at least not to his mind. Of course, he guessed, in a war that might depend on a person's perspective.

When he joined up, it seemed like he was fighting for something, fighting to keep the country together, fighting to keep men from owning other men. Even though he knew in his head that the war accomplished those things, the longer it went on, the more it seemed like he was just killing anyone who had on a gray coat before they killed him. The why of it somehow got lost in the killing, so much killing. He just couldn't get it out of his head that the country should be run by men of reason who should have been able to settle things without all the killing and ruining. He couldn't think of the war without coming back to that thought.

Once he got shed of that blue uniform, he came back west, got work as a lawman. He wanted to make things better, bring law and safety to people, but it seemed like that still took killing. Most times he tried to use reason, but some men just couldn't be reasoned with. Boot Hill was full of men that were short on reason, and he put most of them there.

He abandoned those useless thoughts, wondered what was going to happen now that Cass was back, figured it was a sign that he was running out of time. He doubted they had much luck selling him. He was still alive though, so Cass must still think he might be able to get a ransom.

He hoped no one was stupid enough to come up with the money, because Floyd was going to kill him, one way or the other. All of them had been upfront about that. Besides, just finding a friend of his wouldn't be easy, he didn't have that many, and finding a friend with money…impossible. This whole ransom thing seemed destined for failure, but it had kept him alive, and as long as he was alive, he had hope. He had worried that Cass might end up killing somebody in Dodge, but Cass didn't really seem like a killer. In another time and place, Matt thought, they might have even been friends.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cass led the boys through the larger chamber and out into the night air. He didn't want to take a chance on Miss Russell hearing this, should she happen to awaken. He turned to Caleb. "Caleb, how about you try to get that man looking a little better. Take some water in there and clean some of that blood off his face. I told that woman in there that if she paid the asking price, she'd see him alive. I'd like him to look a little less close to death when she sees him."

He paused, addressed both boys. "I'm leaving in the morning to go back to meet Jeb and pick up the money. You boys stay here. Caleb, I want you to stay out of the sight of that woman, and I mean that. Floyd, when she wakes up in the morning, you take off her blindfold, and let her go in with Dillon. She can stay with him till Jeb and I get back with the money. She paid enough for the privilege.

Now listen to me, Floyd. I don't want you touching that man again; you keep that straight. I promised that woman that if she paid the ransom, she would see him alive and I keep my promises. When I get back, we're gonna send her back to Dodge, and Caleb, you and Jeb are going back to Texas. Nobody but Dillon has seen you and Jeb, and nobody but Dillon can tie either of you to any of this, and what he seen ain't gonna matter." Cass knew that Dillon would probably tell the woman that Caleb and Jeb were here. But if she didn't see them, he didn't figure they could build much of a case. He was counting on that anyway. There was no way he was killing that woman. "Floyd, you and me are gonna take care of Dillon." Cass really didn't like the sick smile that adorned Floyd's face at the thought of the killing. Not for the first time, he damned Dillon to hell for destroying his son.

XXXXXXXXXX

Matt was surprised to see Caleb back so soon and even more surprised when the boy set to cleaning up some of his injuries. He hated to admit how good that cool cloth felt against his fevered skin. It cleared his head some too, maybe even soothed the terrible pounding in his head a little. Caleb was surprisingly gentle as he cleaned away the blood and dirt.

In answer to the unspoken question in the lawman's eyes, Caleb offered an explanation. "Pa wanted me to clean you up some. He felt right bad about what Floyd done to you." He dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry about that too. You just shouldn't have tried to escape." He continued to work away at cleaning the cuts and washing off the blood. Once finished, he rocked back on his haunches looking him over critically. "I'd say you look some better. I shoulda done that before Pa got back. Not much I can do about that gash on your head. It's still bleeding, and I reckon it needs some stitches."

Feeling a little more clear-headed, at least for the moment, Matt was determined to try one more time to get some information out of the boy. "Caleb, if Floyd's gonna kill me, don't you think I should know why?"

Matt met Caleb's gaze as the boy searched his face. "You know, you don't seem so bad, but I don't rightly know how you don't remember what you done to Harold and them other men unless you just did so many terrible things that this one just ain't that special to you. And if that's so, someone should have killed you a long time ago." With those final words, he turned and disappeared out the entrance, leaving Matt to his own thoughts.

Every inch of his body hurting, and his thoughts jumbled, Matt abandoned his effort to try to figure a way out of his predicament. He would try to think on it later. Right now he needed to sleep. Maybe Caleb was right, maybe he had done so many terrible things that someone should have killed him a long time ago. Maybe fate was just finally catching up to him.

His fevered ramblings soon drifted to Dodge and to Kitty. He remembered his last night with her, revisited every moment of their last hours together, remembered the tastes and sensations as his fingers and mouth explored her body, as they joined to become one. Lost in memories of Kitty, he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

To be continued…


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note_ : In Chapter 17, Matt says, "A man makes his dying by the way he lives." He first said this to an outlaw in the episode, Stage Holdup, Season 4 Episode 7, Directed by Ted Post, Written by John Meston, Teleplay by Les Crutchfield. I should have credited it previously. I consider it to be an aphorism that Matt builds his life on. Matt reflected on it in Chapter 17as he reflects on his choice to let Caleb live and recognizes it as the factor that caused the failure of his escape attempt. I think it came to him at that moment as a reminder, that for him, it was the right choice regardless of the ramifications, because when you make the right choices in life, death loses its sting. He may have had some other thoughts on it as well, but I will leave those for you to puzzle over.

While I am leaving author notes, I would like to sincerely thank those of you who are not registered with the site for your kind thoughts on this story. I appreciate them and would love to have the opportunity to thank you personally via the sites private messaging option—should you ever choose to join. Without your comments and those of others, I would have no way of knowing whether I had, in any way, succeeded as a story teller.

" _I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams we can be together all the time."_

A.A. Milne

Chapter 18: Kitty

Cass rose at sunrise to ride back for Jeb. He would sit with Jeb a bit, watch the farmhouse to assure himself that there was no one around, and then they would pick up the money and bring it back here. They'd send the woman home and Jeb and Caleb would go back to Texas. He took a deep breath. Then he and Floyd would take care of the lawman and head for Mexico. He was satisfied with the plan.

He was relieved to see the woman awake and lucid before he left. Sensing his presence, she sat up and angrily tugged at the unexpected bonds. Unable to see because of the blindfold, she spoke out to the darkness. "You promised I'd see Matt. "

Safe from her view, he smiled gently at the redheaded firebrand. "Rest a bit more. I'll see ya get to see him." He admitted to himself that, besides being beautiful, she was a damn brave woman. He still couldn't figure a woman like her having anything to do with a man like Dillon, but if she was his woman, Dillon was a lucky man. He'd had that kind of luck himself…once. Didn't matter who she was to Dillon anyway. The important thing was she'd paid the ransom. He looked towards Caleb and Floyd. I'll see you this afternoon. Then, as he left, he nodded towards the woman letting them know he expected them to follow his instructions.

His sons waited to implement their Father's instructions until trickles of light from the rising sun began to filter into the cave through the vegetation cloaking the entrance.

Floyd untied the rope and then pulled the woman to her feet. He grasped her firmly around her rib cage and removed the blindfold. She twisted her head around to see his face and Floyd could see her revulsion. He pulled her closer pleasuring himself with the fear his nearness caused. She struggled, trying to escape his grasp.

Caleb stayed out of sight, but followed behind, intent on making sure Floyd followed their Pa's instructions and didn't mess with Dillon. He knew he was supposed to stay away, but he was fearful of what Floyd might do. He'd seen enough to know that Floyd had to be watched. He was bad broken and he could not be trusted around Dillon.

Floyd liked how the woman felt, how she smelled. All he could think was that it wasn't right Dillon had a woman like this, wasn't right that his father was going to let her comfort that traitorous, murdering bluebelly. He rubbed his face in her hair inhaling the sweet clean smell. He felt the tension in her body, liked feeling her body against his as she tried to wiggle away. He squeezed her tighter, pressed his body against her. He could feel his body responding to the sensations and he pulled her against his growing hardness.

He hissed in her ear, "I'm taking you to see Dillon." With those words he dragged her deeper into the cave and finally into the chamber where his captive was asleep on the hard rock floor,

He felt her go still in his arms as he dragged her into Dillon's cave prison and she saw his beaten and blood-smeared captive. He missed the sudden lack of movement of her body against his when she abruptly ceased struggling. As her eyes took in the traitor crumpled on the cave floor, his iron encumbered hands cradling his head, Floyd heard her exclamation of concern, "Oh, Matt! My God, what have you done to him?" Floyd was infuriated by her concern for the murdering turncoat.

Simultaneously, Kitty's shout pulled Matt from his delirium and the erotic fevered dreams of his last night with her. His dream and reality melded. "Kitty?" he gasped. He pulled himself up supporting himself on his elbow. For a moment, he forgot about his pain and the dangers that surrounded him. His eyes filled with love as they settled on the woman he cherished. He smiled reached out towards her as far as the handcuffs allowed, desperate for the contact.

But, in a fraction of another moment, he realized that this was neither his dream nor his wished for reality. He was no longer safe with Kitty in his dream, and he also had not somehow miraculously been transported home, to Kitty, to safety, but instead she was here, with him, with these men, with Floyd Dunbart. She was in danger. He dropped his hand. The terrible dark fear that he kept buried deep inside himself, the fear that she would end up in the hands of his enemies had suddenly moved from his nightmares to his reality.

The love for her that had suffused his entire body began to recede back into his heart where he kept it always when he couldn't be with her, where he protected it. The love that had so briefly shone in his eyes was replaced with black fury as he took in her appearance, saw her clothes, the dirt, the blood-stained bandage wrapped around her head, and worst of all Floyd Dunbart's arms coiled around her body, imprisoning her. He turned his gaze on Floyd. His overriding fear was that Floyd would hurt her because of him. Despite his dizziness and nausea, he somehow struggled to his knees, kept his hands on the floor to stay upright. He tried to put force in his voice. "What the hell did you bring a woman here for?" Not just any woman he thought, but the woman I pledged to protect.

"Pa said, if she paid, she would see you alive again, and Pa don't lie." He laughed harshly. "So she's seeing you alive. Of course, we both know you ain't stayi'n that way, don't we? What do you think about that, Red?"

Matt dropped back on his haunches, defeat evident in every line of his posture. They had found a buyer for him. He hadn't thought of Kitty, never imagined they would involve a woman. For that matter, he wondered where she could have gotten the money. He knew she put every penny she had into buying her share of the Long Branch. Sadly, she didn't know that his life had never been for sale at all. She gave up her money, and risked her life, in a doomed effort to save him. He turned his face towards the cave floor, determined to hide his feelings. He couldn't let Floyd know he cared.

"Dillon, look at me. I got your woman. Don't you care? Maybe I'll just keep her. You told me you didn't have no woman. She mean anything to you, or is she just your whore?"

Matt reached deep inside himself, turned back to face Floyd and, with a cold expression, said, "She doesn't mean anything to me. I told you, I range free." He ignored the hurt look in Kitty's eyes.

Floyd's expression turned equally cold. "That so? I think you lying, but it don't matter. Since you gonna be dead soon, and seeing as you don't care anyway, I figure she can be my whore now." He reached up to fondle her breast and then twisted her around in his arms and pulled her even tighter against his body. She fought him as he tried to kiss her. He ground his hardness into her and started to paw at her clothes as she struggled to break free.

Caleb was horrified as he watched the awful scene unfold in front of him. His Pa's instructions to not be seen by this woman momentarily arrested his actions, but he knew he had to stop Floyd. His Pa knew Floyd was sick, but, in that moment, Caleb realized his brother was much sicker than his Pa, or any of them, had ever suspected. He shouted out to Floyd to stop even as he moved forward to intervene, but his moments of indecision made him too late.

Fueled by adrenaline and uncontrolled fury, Matt had already somehow lunged across the intervening distance and dragged Floyd from Kitty, pulling the shocked man to the floor where he had pinned him with his body and was single-mindedly focused on choking the life out of him. Floyd's efforts to fight back were weakening. Caleb frantically tried and failed to pull Dillon off his brother.

Kitty, meanwhile, had scrambled to her feet and was trying to pull Caleb away from Matt.

In desperation Caleb abandoned his efforts to pull Dillon away, shrugged free of Kitty, pulled out his gun, pushed the barrel against the lawman's temple, and screamed, "Stop it or I'll kill her and you."

Somehow those words broke through Matt's fury and adrenaline saturated brain, and he let go of Floyd and rolled to the side, mumbling, "Don't hurt her..."

Caleb, with personal knowledge of how dangerous Dillon was and desperate to regain control of the situation, stepped well back from the fray. He gestured with his gun. "You, Dillon, get back over there." He nodded at Kitty who was again picking herself up from the ground. "Help him." He watched as Dillon, supporting his injured side, and with Kitty's help managed to drag himself to his feet and stumble back to the cave wall where he braced himself. Kitty, kept one arm wrapped around him for support, reached up with her other hand to cup his cheek, and demanded to know what they had done to him. Matt pushed her hand away, jerked free of her supporting arm, and refused to look at her. Still, while continuing to brace himself against the cave wall, he tried, as best he could, to shoulder in front of her while still refusing to acknowledge her existence.

Seeming to completely ignore Caleb and Kitty, Matt, breathing heavily after his exertion, fixed his gaze on Floyd. Focused on trying to control his anger, he watched as Floyd pulled himself to his knees, hunched over, and massaged his throat as he fought to breathe.

Still on his knees, but with one hand now on his gun, Floyd finally managed to open his eyes and rasp, "Damn you, Dillon, I'm gonna hurt you bad." He lifted his head, glanced at Kitty, and then turned his malevolent gaze on Matt. "Who the hell is she to you? Is she your Yankee whore?"

Matt was thankful that him nearly choking Floyd to death had, at least, diverted Floyd's focus from Kitty back to him. He nailed Floyd with his gaze, and bit out, "I told you, she's nothing to me." Matt took a moment to gather his thoughts, desperately trying to clear the fog from his head, to control the boiling rage that still controlled him. A rage that his rational self knew would help neither Kitty nor him.

"You're a liar. A saloon whore don't pay ransom for a man don't even want her. Course, you just ain't much of a man, are ya? Probably only thing you care about is your own yella hide. I need to show her what a real man's like, a man what appreciates her. Maybe she used to be your whore, Dillon, but now she gonna be mine, part of what you owe me."

Caleb still had his gun drawn, seemed unsure where to point it, but Matt knew he couldn't count on Caleb to keep Floyd away from Kitty. He was just a boy, and he was Floyd's brother.

Matt tried to focus, desperately wanted to protect Kitty, tried to think past the confusion and rage churning through his brain. Somehow he needed to reason with Floyd even though he had long ago realized there wasn't much reason left in Floyd's hate-soaked brain. Unfortunately it appeared that, just now, he, himself, didn't have much ability to reason either. Matt was a man who prided himself on his self-control, but not today.

Completely failing to control his emotions or harness his rational thought processes, Matt knew with absolute certainty he would die before he let Floyd touch Kitty again. He shifted his eyes to briefly capture Kitty's gaze. He hoped she knew how much he loved her. He turned back to focus on his nemesis. Then, dominated by rage he couldn't control, he tensed in preparation for one last attempt to destroy Floyd Dunbart. But before he could act, Kitty shoved her way out in front of him and momentarily arrested his intent.

Matt stood, bewildered, as Kitty pinned Floyd with her gaze. "I pay him for protection."

Floyd looked confused. "What do you mean? Why'd you pay the price for him then?"

"He's my brother."

Matt's eyes widened slightly as he tried to figure out what Kitty was doing… her brother? He was still trying to bring his breathing back to normal, struggling to rein in the unbridled rage coursing through his body and keeping him from logical thought.

"Bastard half-brother, actually. He destroyed our family. He followed my Father from Texas to New Orleans looking for money, claimed it was owed him. He'd taken my Father's name, said it was rightfully his. Then, when the war started, he betrayed the South, put on Union blue." She glanced back at him, her eyes filled with disgust. "He dragged our name through the dirt. We were ruined. When the Yankee soldiers occupied New Orleans, they took what little we had left. I took my Mother's name, sold the few family heirlooms still in my possession, and made my way west."

Floyd, still on his knees fell back on his haunches, tilted his head slightly, and tried to figure this out. The confusion in his hate-ravaged brain was clear. "That don't explain how you and him come to be here or why you paid."

"Well, after the war, I was on my way to San Francisco when the stage stopped in Dodge. It was a filthy little town. Imagine my surprise to find that my dear turncoat brother was the only law there. I saw an opportunity. I used the money I had to buy an interest in the Long Branch, and I pay him for protection. His gun makes sure I can run the kind of place I want."

Matt sagged against the cave wall and tried to figure out what Kitty was doing, but his brain was still failing him. He was amazed she could lie like that and, she might be from New Orleans, but he sure never heard her sound like a southern belle before.

Kitty glanced over at Matt, disdain evident on her features, confusion on his. "He'll do anything for money. He has no morals, and he's good with a gun. I need him to stay in business, so I paid the ransom, but I loathe him."

Floyd, still confused, couldn't quite understand how this fit with her, or Dillon's earlier behavior, but it fit with everything he knew about Dillon. Seemed this Kitty was a southern patriot, and Dillon had wronged her, just like he'd done him. Floyd finally staggered to his feet still rubbing his throat and struggling for air. Caleb took his arm and led him away. "C'mon, Floyd, you know Pa said not to mess with them."

Floyd paused briefly, looked back at Matt and laughed maliciously. "I always knew you were a bastard." Then he allowed Caleb to lead him away.

To be continued…


	19. Chapter 19

" _Well-behaved women seldom make history."_

Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

Chapter 19: Moments Alone

The moment the brothers disappeared from sight, Kitty was back at Matt's side, berating his captors for what they had done to him and helping him down into a sitting position supported by the cave wall. He reached up with his manacled hands and gently touched the bloodied bandage wrapped around her head, his eyes filled with pain for her. She impatiently knocked his hands away, "I'm fine. And dammit, Matt, I saw it in your eyes. You were going after Floyd again. I guess you didn't notice they both had guns. What the hell were you thinking?"

Matt looked into her eyes, couldn't help that anger was still his predominant emotion. He could feel the rage that still controlled his brain pulsating through every nerve in his body. He tried to tamp down how furious he was that Floyd touched her, called her a whore, and that she had come here. He swallowed, finally choked out, "I was thinking, I'd kill him before he touched you again. Kitty, why the hell did you come here?" He could see his anger hurt her, but at the moment, he just didn't care. He didn't want her here.

"I had to come, Matt. The note said if I wanted to see you alive, I had to pay. I couldn't take a chance on not paying." Even as she spoke, her hands fluttered over him, soothing the many cuts and bruises on his face. She quickly tore a piece from her flannel shirt and used it to dab at the bloody gash over his eye and wipe away the blood dripping down the side of his face. "Matt, I know you don't believe in paying ransoms, but even if all that money gets me is this time with you, it was worth it." She tried to connect with his eyes, to make him understand she had no choice. "And I did tell you that I was my own woman and made my own decisions. Don't ever think you can tell me what to do."

Matt dropped back against the hard rock wall, closed his eyes, tried to slow his breathing, and purge the rage from his mind. His problems just seemed to be multiplying. And on top of that, the whole cave seemed to be moving, and he was so sick to his stomach.

Seeing clear evidence of worse injuries under his shirt, Kitty quickly unbuttoned the filthy torn and bloody garment, gasped when she pulled it open and saw the dark bruises covering his chest and side and then the infected, partially closed bullet wound. That must be the source of the blood she had seen covering his saddle. "Oh, Matt, I was so afraid you were dead. Buck came into town without you, and the saddle was covered with your blood."

He suddenly understood how they identified Kitty as someone who would pay for him. They must have purposely taken Buck into Dodge and let him go, then watched to see who cared that his blood was all over the saddle. "Kitty, I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Matt, finally releasing his anger as his love for her overruled every other emotion, reached up, and ignoring his good sense urging him to be cautious, looped his cuffed hands around her and pulled her against his chest, holding her there. He needed to feel her close to him. "Kitty, I will love you forever, but we've got to get you out of here."

She mumbled into his shirt. "I'm not leaving without you."

For a few all too brief moments, he ignored her stubbornness and reveled in feeling her body snuggled against his. It was something he needed. Something he missed. For just that moment he allowed his focus to narrow to just that one thing, her body next to his. He lay very still focusing on feeling her heart beating against his chest and his against hers, together, never quite in synchrony, but creating a rhythmic music that never failed to soothe him. Somehow it always reassured him that they were both alive and together. For those brief moments, he felt like he was home and safe. Her closeness calmed him. Then he took a deep breath, grasped her waist in his cuffed hands and resolutely pushed her away from him.

Reluctantly she sat up and ducked free of the heavy iron cuffs.

With his rage spent, Matt could feel his strength slipping away. "Kitty, look at me. I'm not in any shape to get out of here, but I figure I might have one more diversion in me. I have to get you out of here." He struggled for a way to convince her. "You can get help."

She pierced him with her eyes wanting to make absolutely certain that he understood this was not open for discussion. "I'm not going, Matt. Floyd and that boy that was in here are the only ones that I saw. The older one went back for the ransom, and there was another that stayed there at the old Smith place. That's where I left the ransom. Are there more I don't know about?"

He shook his head no.

"We can take them. I'm sure." Then, before he could form an objection, she continued, "And there is one more thing." She grimaced slightly as she wondered how this might impact any possibility of release for either of them. "I didn't actually have the money for the ransom. All I could get was $500, so that's what I left at the drop off place."

Matt dropped his head back against the cave wall, closed his eyes, and groaned. "They could have killed you. When they find out, they still might." He wasn't sure if it really mattered now. He knew the lack of a ransom wouldn't impact his fate, but he still wasn't sure what they planned for Kitty. Except for Floyd, they didn't seem like the kind of men that would kill a woman. Regardless, he didn't plan for her to be here when they got back anyway. "Kitty, when they find that out, they aren't going to be in a mood to be reasonable. We have to get you out of here now, while there are only two of them."

"No, we're getting out of here together or not at all. Matt, you need a doctor. That bullet wound looks bad. You're bad feverish and it's infected. It's not bleeding much, but there's drainage. When did it happen?"

Slightly overwhelmed by the force that was Kitty, Matt shifted against the cave wall and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the last question. He wasn't at all sure what today was. Between the total darkness he'd been left in, the occasional periods of delirium, and the pain, he had just lost track of time. He decided to approach the problem from the other direction. He'd left Dodge on Saturday and spent one night still in control of his prisoner. That meant he'd been shot on Sunday morning. He opened his eyes, pleased to have an answer to her question. "I was shot on Sunday. What day is it now?"

Kitty looked askance at him. Matt saw the look and knew it was unusual for him to lose track of time, but he figured he had reason. Kitty finally supplied the missing information. "It's Wednesday, getting close to midday." She looked closely at his eyes didn't like the look of them at all. He just wasn't completely there, looked dazed

Somehow, to Matt, it seemed like it had been longer. It was only yesterday that Floyd had been scheduled to hang. He noticed Kitty looking at him oddly. Thought he should say something. "Seems like I've been in this cave a lot longer."

She gave him a soft smile, desperately wanted to just hold him and comfort him, hated pushing him when he was so badly hurt, but she had to have information, so she continued her interrogation.

"Are you still carrying the bullet?"

"No, I was lucky." Matt figured lucky was a relative term on a continuum of bad luck. "It went clear through. I figure it missed all the important parts seeing as I'm still alive."

She continued, "Your chest sure is all bruised up." He flinched as her fingers danced across his rib cage, probing and assessing.

"Ouch." He was already well aware that his ribs had taken a beating and every time he tried to shift position on the hard rock, they reminded him. "Can't you just leave them be? I know they're banged up, but I don't think any are broken. I'm fine." He figured his ribs looked a lot worse than they really were. It was his head that was giving him the most misery. He could feel himself slipping, losing focus. He was tired, dizzy, and confused. With the rage and adrenaline rush from his interaction with Floyd gone, he was barely able to stay awake.

"Matt, you are not fine. Do you think they'd give me some water, maybe some whiskey, so I could try to clean this wound out a little bit."

Her suggestion snapped him back to the present. He raised his head. "No! We do nothing that brings Floyd back in here. He's mean, unstable." Matt left it unsaid that he feared Floyd might go after her again. Exhausted, he dropped his head back against the cave wall.

He desperately wanted to pull Kitty back into his arms. But sadly, he knew he could offer her no safety, knew his arms offered only danger, and he was worried that Floyd might return. For her safety, he had to maintain the farce that there was nothing between them. Funny, he managed to do that every day in Dodge, but just now, the only thing he wanted was her body next to his. His thoughts were so muddled. His whole world was spinning. Chester would have said he was swimmy headed.

Kitty could see that Matt was getting worse quickly, that he was confused and drifting. She gently caressed his whisker-shadowed cheek and raked her fingers through his sweat-matted curls. Then, cupping his jaw, she directed his gaze to her face. "Matt, you have to focus. Once the other two get back, we won't have much of a chance, and they're going to be back soon. I need you to tell me everything you know about these men." Floyd made it very clear that he planned to kill Matt as soon as Cass returned, and Kitty was determined to keep that from happening.

Matt tried to organize his thoughts, but any sort of logical thinking was eluding him. A man could handle a lot of pain, but this terrible sickness in his head, and the way everything seeming to be moving like he was on some sort of cheap whiskey drunk made it impossible for him to think. "I don't know much … I already told you. The older man is the father—Cass. Jeb, Floyd, and Caleb ...brothers. Caleb… young one. They don't like me. Texan, fighting for the Union. You already knew."

Kitty could see that she was losing Matt's attention. He was struggling to stay conscious, and she had to keep him with her. It was going to take both of them to get out of this. "Yeah, but what you conveniently left out during our last night together was that Floyd and you know each other, that something happened between you."

Matt just wanted to sleep, but he pushed himself to stay conscious, knew Kitty needed him. "Sorry, Kitty, didn't want to worry. Thanks to Caleb, I know more now. They think… responsible for the fourth brother, Harold, dying …terrible way. Something bad… made Floyd mean." He wrinkled his brow. Tried to remember. "Oh, and I murdered somebody …maybe more. The mother died …my fault…somehow. Think I'm traitor… poor excuse for a man. Whatever happened, key to this whole thing. I've tried to remember, but I …can't." Matt drifted off into silence, his eyes slowly closing.

Kitty grasped his hand, "Stay with me, Matt. I'm sure I can get Floyd to tell us what happened, but we have to figure out what we're going to do, make something happen. We can't wait. When Cass gets back, Floyd's gonna kill you. We need a plan."

Matt took a deep breath, pulled his eyes open, tried to focus. Kitty wanted a plan. He knew her survival could depend on him, but his thoughts were wandering. He could feel her hand wrapped around his. So soft, he couldn't resist the contact, wanted more. He tried to remind himself that even holding her hand was dangerous if Floyd showed up. Still, he pulled her hand over, enjoying the feel of its cool softness against the hot, bare skin of his chest. He could feel himself drifting again, struggled to rouse himself. He smiled at her and mumbled, "Kitty, didn't realize you were… such a good liar."

She wrinkled her forehead and raised one eyebrow. "What?"

"The 'bastard half-brother,' thing. I couldn't…" He paused. "Couldn't thought of it." Somewhere he found it in him to offer her a grin. "Glad… not my sister."

"Well, Matt, a girl in my profession has got to be able to think quick sometimes.." Then she winked at him. "And I'm pretty glad you aren't my brother, too." Her face took on a pensive look, and she added, "You know there is something about this whole thing that just doesn't make any sense to me?"

"Whazat?"

"Matt, you are not a poor excuse for a man and I just can't imagine you killing anyone in some terrible way, or murdering anyone. You're not capable of that."

Matt wished he could be the man Kitty believed him to be. He smiled weakly at her faith in him and wished he shared her certainty. He was, after all, a butcher. Jack Brand had told him so. He was trying to formulate a response when Floyd returned, and he didn't look happy. Matt quickly pushed Kitty's hand away and fixed a sour look on his face. Kitty stood.

Too be continued…


	20. Chapter 20

Historical Perspective: _"At Franklin, 20,000 Confederates, supported by just one battery, advanced over two miles of open ground and struck a Union line made up of three tiers of sturdy breastworks and abatis that in most places stood about eight feet high. The Army of Tennessee pierced the center of this line and held their position for over three hours, resulting in over 2,000 combined fatalities. Such bravery and ferocity so late in the war shocked and saddened many observers-Private Sam Watkins of the 1st Tennessee called it 'the blackest page in the history of the war.'"_ The Civil War Trust: 10 Facts about the Battle of Franklin

" _The spaces between the two gashes in the ground began to resemble a sepulchre, grotesquely lit by little more than gunfire blasts and artillery explosions. And in a particularly gruesome development, the men started building shelters out of the bodies of their comrades_ "  
Quoted in Patrick Brennan, The Battle of Franklin, North and South magazine, January 2005, Vol. 8., No 1.

" _It was impossible to exaggerate the fierce energy with which the confederate soldiers that November afternoon threw themselves against the works, fighting with what seemed the very madness of despair. At some of the earthworks the press of men was so great that the dead having no place to fall, remained in an upright position."_

Union soldier quoted in, The Battle of Franklin, M. Foster Farley, Civil War magazine; Summer 2006.

Following shockingly high losses of enlisted men and officers at Franklin Tennessee, General Hood chose to march his demoralized army to Nashville to engage a much larger, better equipped, and well entrenched Union force under the able command of General George Thomas.

Chapter 20: Floyd's Story

Matt pulled himself up against the cave wall and tried to put some strength in his voice. "What do you want, Floyd."

"Nothin. I just come to check on ya. Make sure those irons are still in place." He sauntered across the chamber and grabbed the chain linking the iron rings locked on Matt's wrists and gave it a strong pull, yanking Matt away from the wall. "Hmm, looks like they are."

Matt gritted his teeth, stifling the moan that nearly escaped him at the rough treatment. He closed his eyes trying to get the room to stop spinning. He was determined to make it to his feet to face Floyd despite the clear evidence his brain was providing that the floor was moving in impossible and unpredictable ways. First he pulled himself up to his hands and knees, then his knees and finally was able to stand using the rock wall for support, grateful for that small outcropping that partially supported his weight, served almost as a seat. He tried to ignore the flashing lights and constant movement of the landscape that surrounded him. He was grateful Kitty made no move to help him.

Somewhat surprised that Floyd had not moved in on him, and careful to keep his face unreadable, he braced himself against the wall and pulled himself to his full height. Despite the roiling sickness in his gut, he took a perverse pleasure in watching Floyd step back. His earlier loss of control had at least garnered him some respect. He managed to grind out, "Anything else you wanted to check?" He knew he was baiting him, and he had already seen that Floyd was not someone to be trifled with, but sometimes he was a slow learner. Matt had nothing left but stubborn pride, but it got him through tough times before and he needed it to hold him up now. He couldn't leave Kitty alone with this man.

Floyd dropped his hand to his gun, a move that seemed to restore his confidence. "No, that's all I wanted. That, and to remind you that as soon as my Pa comes back with that ransom, I'm gonna kill ya."

Matt glanced over to make sure Kitty was staying out of it. But, of course, she wasn't. He was beginning to wonder why he couldn't have fallen in love with a normal woman, someone who he might have at least a possibility of keeping safe, too late for that now. Her hands were on her hips and she had a stubborn look on her face.

"I paid the ransom to get him back. I need him for protection for my business. You can't just kill him."

"Sorry, but you're gonna have to find some other protection cause, like I said, I'm gonna kill him. Ain't nobody gonna save him. Not even you, pretty lady."

"But I paid the ransom. What kind of southern gentleman are you anyway? Don't you keep your word?"

Matt tried to interject himself into the conversation. "Kitty, leave him be." But, at the moment, no one was paying him any attention, and he didn't like it.

Floyd looked confused for a minute. "The money was just so you could see him alive. You're seeing him alive now. Pa never said you could keep him."

"That's just some kind of cheap trick. I don't need to see him. I just need his gun working for me. What do you want to kill him for anyway?" She paused as if she expected an answer.

When no answer was offered, she continued. "He," she tossed her head towards Matt, "told me this crazy story that it was because he killed your brother, but you know it was war, and people get killed in a war."

Kitty was starting to scare him, and Matt practically growled her name. "Kitty, don't!"

Floyd was increasingly agitated, but even he heard the warning in Matt's voice. He dropped his hand back to his gun. "What kind of lies did you tell her, you lying traitor?"

This time it was Kitty inserting herself back in the conversation. "He didn't tell me anything except that Harold got killed in the war, and I guess he was responsible seeing as that's what you say, and he did side with those dreadful Yankees. He said that's why you wanted to kill him, just because he killed Harold in the war."

Matt was weakening and the confused state of his thinking was making it increasingly difficult for him to keep up with the conversation, but he was desperate to remain upright as he feared Kitty was going to goad Floyd into attacking her, or maybe him. He wondered if this was her plan. He remembered her talking about a plan. If this was it, he wasn't sure it was such a good one, but Kitty wasn't going to listen to his warnings. She told him that he shouldn't think he could tell her what to do, and she was definitely making that painfully obvious. He just needed to try to pay attention, to do whatever it was she needed.

The hate and rage that always simmered under Floyd's surface were coming to a boil. When he spoke, spittle flew from his mouth, flecked his lips and his beard. "It wasn't like that. It wasn't war. Nothing excuses the way he let Harold die, and he knows it."

Kitty seemed to realize she had perhaps pushed Floyd too far, and she protectively stepped in front of Matt. Then very quietly offered in a soothing tone, "Floyd, that doesn't surprise me a bit. I've seen him kill men with no more thought than if they were cockroaches."

Matt winced at her quiet statement, reminded himself that she didn't really believe that, at least he didn't think she did, but hearing her say it still hurt. Mostly he just hoped she knew what she was doing. If she pushed him too far, Floyd would kill them both, without a thought, …like cockroaches.

Kitty plunged on, her interrogation quiet now, cajoling, desperate to get Floyd to reveal his story of Harold's death. "What really happened to your brother?"

Floyd seemed almost in a trance, his breathing rapid and shallow.

Matt tried to maintain his hold on the cave wall, which was all that was keeping him up, and reach out to pull Kitty back, to protect her, but she shrugged him off, stepped even closer to Floyd, beyond his reach.

Very softly, she pushed. "What did he do?" She cut her eyes towards Matt.

Floyd glared at Matt, shifted his gaze back to Kitty. "It was the Battle of Nashville. We'd been fighting those Yankee devils for two days, and before that, they'd ripped us apart at Franklin. There was so much blood, and dyin, and misery. The dead and wounded were everywhere. There just wasn't nothin left of us. I don't know how me and Harold was still alive. General Hood's whole army was in retreat. It wasn't even really a retreat. Everybody was just running, trying to get away from the advancing bluebellies. Me and Harold started running too. Somehow, me and Harold, Shug Tomson, Jimmy Harper, and Snick Thigpen got separated from everybody else. That's when he come up on us." Floyd paused to nod in Matt's direction, his gaze baleful and hate-filled.

Floyd's words pushed Matt back in time, brought his own buried memories of the battle to the surface. The Battle of Nashville had been the last major battle of the war that he had been involved in, the last major battle in what they called the western theater—although to a Texan, Tennessee hardly qualified as the west. The south was already beat, but too proud to accept it. No one knew it then, but it would only be four more months until Lee would surrender at Appomattox.

It was getting close to Christmas of 1864 and bitter cold, especially for a boy from south Texas. He had been miserable, huddling in an icy trench for two weeks, waiting for the inevitable battle, knowing the rebels were out there waiting. Then the weather started to warm up, the ice finally melted, and General Thomas ordered the attack. That first morning, the fog had been so thick, and not being able to see just added to the terror. Like Floyd, he remembered two days of vicious fighting as the Confederate lines slowly started to crack on the first day, and finally broke on the second. The better commanded, much larger, better supplied, and superiorly entrenched Union Army of the Cumberland destroyed the Army of Tennessee and chased the remnants all the way into Mississippi. It had been a decisive victory for the North, but like Floyd, Matt mostly remembered the blood, horror, and death.

The battleground was littered with the dead. He remembered seeing so many dead soldiers on one hill that you couldn't walk without stepping on the bodies. Whether they were dressed in blue, gray, or butternut hardly seemed to matter once they were laying there dead. The ones in gray and butternut were often ragged and shoeless. He couldn't imagine what it had been like for them to wait in the icy trenches, barefoot and without coats. He was sick of the killing and dying. There had been too many battles, Mill Springs, Chickamauga, Chattanooga, Franklin, and finally Nashville. They all ran together.

He pulled himself from his own memories, somehow aware of the malignant stare that Floyd had fixed on him. His own countenance neutral, he tried to push away his weakness and nausea, met Floyd's stare, refusing to look away. Finally Floyd dropped his eyes and continued his story.

"Like I said, he came up on us, him and two of his kind, him with a fancy Spencer carbine. We were in full retreat when we seen em. They must have been out in front of their main line. We found cover and started shooting. He hollered for us to surrender, but we kept on firing until we ran out of ammunition. Then we threw our weapons out in front of us and raised our hands. He told us to come on out and we did. That's when he shot Jimmy down. Jimmy didn't even have no gun. Jimmy was standing there with his hands up and Dillon just pointed his rifle at him and shot him, murdered him in cold blood."

Matt swallowed, but continued to listen quietly. Now that Floyd had identified the battle and the specific event, he remembered. Some of the names were lost to his memory, if he'd ever even known them, but he remembered the horror of that cold winter afternoon.

"We figured it was all over for us, but one of them other bluebellies made him stop, said he'd report him, said there was rules to be followed. He called him by name, Dillon. That's when Shug said, 'Dillon? Matthew Dillon? You remember me? We punched cows together on The Three Bar Ranch down in south Texas when you were still a sprout.' Well, Dillon looked mighty surprised. 'Shug, Shug Tomson?' For a minute there, it seemed like old home week, but then it come to Shug that his old friend from Texas was wearing blue, holding a rifle on him, and had just murdered Jimmy. Shug still asked him to let us go, him being a fellow Texan, a friend, and all." Floyd scoffed derisively. "But Dillon wasn't having none of that."

Floyd paused and took a deep breath. "That's when the artillery started up. The shells were exploding all around us. Some was cannonballs and some was canisters. We was right in the middle of it. Snick Thigpen was standing with his arms in the air, and he got his head blowed clean off. Me and Harold was right next to him, and his blood speckled us like rain drops. His body was just layin there on the ground, but it didn't have no head anymore. It coulda been anybody's body, but we knowed it was Snick's. Shug got scared and just started running, and Dillon shot him in the back with that Spencer carbine of his. His old friend from Texas, and he killed him, just shot him in the back when he was running away."

Floyd curled his lip in disdain. "That's when them other two bluebellies started screaming to let us go and just get the hell out of there, and they started running back towards the Yankee line. Me and Harold wanted to run in the other direction, but we sure knowed Dillon would kill us if we moved. Dillon screamed at them two bluebellies to stop running, but they kept running till a canister shell ripped them apart."

Floyd wiped at his eyes. "Everybody was dead now except me and Harold and Dillon, and I knowed he was gonna kill us, but instead, he started orderin us towards some abandoned rifle pits. Then there was a loud crack. A cannonball hit a big pine, and the whole top half of it started coming down. We all tried to jump out of the way, but it come down right on Harold. Harold was screaming for help. He was bleedin from where one of the branches had stuck in him."

Floyd swallowed, a look of total desolation covering his face. "He just kept screaming and begging me for help. The artillery shells were exploding all around us. I was so scared. Then, for some reason, the artillery stopped, and it got real quiet except for Harold screaming and begging me to help him, calling my name. I couldn't hardly look at him, my little brother, with that branch sticking in him like that. He was just sorta stuck hanging on that tree. I can't get the sight of it or the sound of his voice begging me for help out of my head. I tried, but I couldn't get that tree off by myself."

He looked towards Matt. "I begged Dillon to help me, but he just laughed and said to leave him, said it was his job to kill gray-backed scum like him and me, not save us. Said he'd shoot him, but there wasn't no need to waste the bullet. If he'd a helped, I might coulda saved Harold. Dillon started pushing me back towards his own lines. I said, I weren't leaving Harold, and that's when he knocked me in the head with his rifle butt. When I come to, Dillon was gone, and Harold was dead. I can't never forget Harold with that branch stuck in him, and Dillon laughing at him, calling him scum. Dillon laughin and Harold cryin and beggin, calling my name. I can't get that outa my head. He coulda let me help Harold or at least let me stay with him and comfort him. It wouldn'ta hurt him to do that."

To be continued…


	21. Chapter 21

_"Our shoes were worn out and our feet were torn and bleeding . . . the snow was on the ground and there was no food."_ Anonymous Confederate soldier referencing the march to Nashville.

Chapter 21: Matt's Story

His story finished, Floyd sniffled and wiped the tears from his eyes, glared at Matt defying him to deny what he'd said. Despite knowing, it wasn't true, Matt was dismayed by Floyd's version of the events of that day. Matt knew that somewhere in the depths of his addled brain Floyd must know the truth, but he was at a loss as to how he could connect Floyd to reality. He turned to Kitty, looking for assurance that she hadn't believed Floyd, hoping he wouldn't see disgust in her eyes because of what Floyd said. She turned to face him, and he was relieved to see only love reflected back in her eyes.

"That isn't what happened is it, Matt?"

He slowly shook his head.

"Can you tell what happened?"

Matt was still upright, but was collapsed against the rock outcropping on the cave wall, letting it support most of his weight. The memories coupled with his fever, pain, and the overwhelming nausea had him in a daze. He nodded, squinted at the pain the movement caused. "It was almost like he said, but I never shot anyone… leastwise not then. And there were five of us to start with. Floyd, and the men with him, killed two of us right off from ambush, and that just left Carl Breck, some new recruit whose name I just don't remember, and me. Breck and me weren't exactly friends. I didn't remember the names of any of the Confederates, except Shug, if I ever even heard them. I never even knew Floyd and Harold were brothers, and Floyd looked a lot different. He was younger, of course, a lot thinner, and he didn't have a beard."

Matt paused and took a breath, determined to get the truth said. "The war ruined Breck, like it did a lot of men. Breck came to love the killing, and he hated the Confederates. Right after the Confederates killed the first two of us, they ran out of ammunition. They surrendered, came out with their hands up, but Breck wanted payback. He killed the one Floyd called Jimmy right off. He killed Shug too, when Shug ran, right after that cannonball killed the one they called Snick. Like Floyd said, I knew Shug before the war. I was just a kid when I worked on the Three Bar. Shug was older and he was one of the men who kind of looked out for me back then. I wouldn't have killed Shug, and I sure wouldn't have shot him in the back. It was Breck that shot him. I would have stopped him, but it happened too fast. I already told him I was turning him in to the Captain after he shot the one Floyd called Jimmy. Breck didn't care."

Matt stopped and used his sleeve to wipe away the blood that still oozed from the cut above his eye. He sighed as he remember how it had been between him and Breck. "Breck gave me a disgusted look and said, 'You just go ahead and do that, Dillon. That's kind of a joke, ain't it, reporting me for killing gray-backed scum? I guess it's hard for you to remember who the enemy is.' He laughed at me. 'Maybe you been a good little soldier, but I ain't forgot where you come from.'"

A cynical smile crossed Matt's countenance. "I heard that sort of thing a lot, being a Texan. Then the artillery started; we were all scared. Floyd was right. It was terrifying. Shells just falling from the sky un-nerves a man. Breck wanted to shoot the last two Confederates, Harold and Floyd, and get back to our lines. But I said, no, I was taking them back with us. They were prisoners, and I was ready to back it up. I couldn't stop him from killing that unarmed soldier or Shug. But Shug had been a friend, and I just wasn't letting Breck do any more murdering on that day. He damned me to hell as a Johnny Reb lover, and he and the new recruit took off running back towards our lines. Like Floyd said, I tried to stop them, told them to get down, take cover till there was a break in the fire. But they just kept running until that canister killed them."

Matt winced in pain and leaned a little heavier against the cave wall. He didn't think he was going to be able to stay upright much longer. Truth was, the only thing keeping him off the cave floor was the outcropping he'd settled against and his stubbornness, and he just didn't know for how much longer that would be enough. He shifted a little trying to gain more support from the outcropping. "I was trying to get Floyd, Harold, and me to shelter in some abandoned rifle pits, but we never got there. Like Floyd said, that tree came down and pinned Harold. I'm not sure there was anything we could do to save him, but I would have never just left him if I could help him. He was hurting bad and begging for help, screaming. I crouched down to check on him, but I wasn't sure what to do, being caught out in the middle of all that artillery fire. He was real young looking, like Caleb's age. Then the artillery stopped as sudden as it started, so I was feeling a little safer. One of those pine branches had impaled him. It was a horrible thing to see."

Matt paused a sick look crossing his face as he remembered. "I cut that branch free from the tree. I could tell it hurt him fierce when I did that, but I cut it fast as I could. At least that way, he wasn't hanging off the tree. Once it was done, it eased his pain considerable, and he stopped screaming, was breathing real hard, trying to be brave. I didn't want to take a chance on pulling it out."

Matt started to shift his eyes towards Floyd, but he quickly arrested the movement, not wanting to antagonize the unstable man. "I looked over to ask Floyd for help, but I could see something was wrong with him. He was just standing there with this dazed look. I saw a lot of men with that look during the war, like they were there, but they weren't. I told him that I would lift, and he should pull Harold free. He didn't really seem to know where he was, but he nodded his head. I don't know what I was thinking, but I leaned my rifle against the tree. I turned my back on Floyd, so I could raise the limb that was pinning Harold just enough so Floyd could pull him free. I think, for a moment, I forgot there was blue and gray, and I was just thinking of us as men, instead of enemies, and thinking Harold needed help. I guess I was just too tired to think straight, tired from all the fighting, tired from trying to survive. When I leaned over to shift the tree, Floyd hit me in the head from behind."

Matt looked over at Kitty, let his eyes slide past Floyd. He saw that Floyd looked a lot like he looked that day back in the war, like his body was there, but he wasn't. Matt's lip curled in an involuntary humorless smile. It was strange. Floyd looking vacant, just like he looked that day on the battlefield and him feeling nauseous and dizzy, just like he felt after Floyd had hit him in the head that day. It was like they had come full circle right back to where they'd been, except Harold was dead, and the war was long over.

Matt rested his head against the cool rock face. "When I came to, my rifle and Floyd were gone. I crawled over to Harold. He was mostly quiet, just moaning a little. There was nothing I could do. I was hurt and, even if I wasn't, there was no way to get him out from under that tree without help, and we were all alone. It was like the war had gone on and left us behind. I think it was too late by then anyway. I gave him some water from my canteen, talked to him some. He was asking for someone, maybe Floyd, asked him to please not leave him alone. I pretended like I was him, and I held onto his hand, so he knew he wasn't dying alone."

Matt sighed. He hadn't been responsible for Harold dying, and he hadn't murdered anyone. It was a considerable relief to him. It was perhaps the one time in the entire war where there was no blood on his hands, although plenty of blood had been shed. "I remember noticing Harold didn't even have any shoes, just some bloody rags tied around his feet."

Kitty wiped the tears from her eyes, shifted her eyes between the two men, both temporarily lost to the present.

Then Floyd seemed to abruptly snap back to awareness, and he pulled his gun and started screaming, "You're a lying Yankee bastard. It was your fault there was a war, Dillon. All you Yankees made it so we would have a war, and you was a Texan and should have been helpin us, not killin us. They shoulda hung you as a traitor. But, I'm gonna kill you now." Floyd glared at him. "I hate you so much."

Floyd's eyes shifted around the small chamber, skittered past Kitty, settled back on Matt. "I was supposed to take care of Harold. He was my little brother. I promised. I can't let you tell Pa. He can't know I ran out on Harold. I…I couldn't stand Harold screaming like that, that tree stuck in him and him screaming and calling my name. He was dyin, and I didn't know what to do."

For just a moment, Floyd got real calm. "They're all dead, except you, Dillon, and I'm gonna kill you, now. You deserve to die. It was all your fault."

Matt felt his pulse speed up. Kitty still stood between him and Floyd's gun.

Killing, the only thing on his mind, Floyd switched his focus to Kitty. "You get out the way, woman. I'm gonna kill him now, and you too if you don't move."

Matt watched helplessly as Kitty ignored Floyd's threats, spread her arms defensively and stood firm in front of him like some sort of she-bear guarding her cub. She tried to calm Floyd, spoke soft and gentle. "Floyd, it's all over. It's past. Matt tried to help, but nobody could help Harold. Nobody. You don't want to hurt anyone."

Matt clenched his teeth and stepped away from the wall, was assailed by a fresh wave of dizziness as he let go of the rocky outcropping that he had been clinging to, but somehow he remained standing and took the step he needed. Kitty was in reach of his long arm now, and he grabbed her shoulder and roughly shoved her to the side, watched and felt a moment of pain for the hurt he caused her as she tumbled to the hard rock floor.

Then he switched his focus to Floyd, searched his eyes for some spark of reason, but saw only madness. Hate and guilt had destroyed any vestiges of reason or humanity left in the man. Matt took a deep breath, determined to stay on his feet, as he looked down the gun barrel at certain death, saw Floyd's finger start to tighten on the trigger.

To be continued…


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22:

Searching for Two Needles on the Prairie

Doc arrived back in Dodge around 9 AM. It had been a difficult delivery, but Mother and son were doing fine. All the way back to town, he had been worried about Kitty. Her behavior yesterday was disturbing to say the least, first the ice-cold promise to murder Floyd Dunbart and then finding her at work in her office and seeming to be strangely distracted. Yessirree, his first stop was going to be the Long Branch to check on her. He was exhausted, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink without knowing she was ok. He pulled his buggy to a halt in front of the Long Branch, hurried in, and headed straight up the stairs.

Sam tried to intercept him, explaining that Miss Kitty had left explicit instructions that she wasn't to be disturbed. Well, Doc just didn't care one whit about her instructions. He was gonna check on her, and that's all there was to it. Sam, for his part, knew better than to try to stop Doc when he was in a mood like this. Doc got to the top of the stairs and knocked gently, but got no response. He got a little more forceful, and then he got downright loud, but there was still no answer.

He hurried over to the railing and shouted down to Sam, oblivious to the few customers already in the bar. "Kitty isn't answering. Does Bill have a key to this door?"

There had been a flurry of activity downstairs and moments later, Bill appeared with the needed key in his hand. A look passed between the two men before Bill paused with the key near the lock and banged loudly on the door one last time, still no answer. He inserted the key, turned the lock and pushed the door open. Both men entered the room. Everything was in place, except Kitty. The bed was carefully made. Doc turned and hustled down the stairs leaving Bill to follow in his wake.

"Sam, did you see Kitty again yesterday, after I left?"

Sam nodded. "She left her office right after you and was gone for maybe twenty minutes. Then she went up to her room."

Obviously agitated, Doc pushed for more information. "Was there anything else at all?"

"She came down a little bit later and told me she would be sleeping in today and not to disturb her." Sam took a breath, decided he was more worried about Miss Kitty right then than keeping his promise. "She left a note for you, but told me not to give it to you till after three today."

Doc pinned Sam with his eyes. "I need that note now, Sam. Kitty could be in danger." Sam didn't hesitate another moment, but pulled the envelope from the drawer behind the bar and handed it to the worried physician. Doc ripped open the envelope, quickly scanned the contents.

Sam and Bill both saw the expression of fear settle over his features before he quickly folded the two pieces of paper, turned, and hastened to leave the bar. He turned to the two men. "I'll take care of this."

Both men called after him demanding to know the contents of the envelope. Doc ignored them as he grabbed his bag out of his buggy and hurried down the boardwalk to his office. His mind was in turmoil as he tried to formulate a plan of action. He knew he dared not involve anyone else. He had to go after her, but was afraid that the more people that followed, the more her life would be in danger.

He hurried up the stairs to his office and started gathering everything he thought he might need and jamming it in his bag. He grabbed a second bag and stuffed it with bandages. There was no telling what he might be faced with when he found them, if he found them, but he knew Matt was hurt, probably badly hurt, and had apparently been in the hands of that madman for several days. The alternative was unthinkable. And Kitty had followed the man into danger. With everything he could imagine needing packed, he set off for the livery.

Thankfully Moss was there. "Moss, could you harness up a wagon for me? I've got business out of town. Oh, and I left my buggy down in front of the Long Branch. I'd sure appreciate it if you could send someone down for it and take care of my horse."

Moss, though a bit confused by Doc's strange behavior, went right to work carrying out his requests. As soon as Moss had the horses hitched, Doc climbed up into the wagon and drove it down to the jail and used the key Matt entrusted him with, in case of an emergency, to get inside. He quickly grabbed two of the mattresses off the cots and the blankets. Damn if he knew how a man Matt's size slept on one of them. He tossed them in the back of the wagon and was on his way well before ten, hoping he had done everything possible to prepare for what he might find. He planned to follow the instructions to the ransom site and see what he found.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Not sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, he ran into Chester on the outskirts of Dodge. Doc was surprised to see him back so soon.

Chester quickly explained, "The only thing we found was this spent casing from a rifle and it being so shiny and all," He held it up for Doc's inspection. "I was plumb worried. I found it behind them rocks near where we always stop ta water the horses and fill the canteens.

Doc interrupted. "Did you seen any evidence of Matt being there?"

No I didn't, Doc, by I know he stops there. And goodness sakes, there's just no reason at all for a casing to be there unless a man hid there to ambush someone on the trail. Jake Worth's men said they'd stay there and search, but they had to be gettin back to the ranch in the morning. I hightailed it straight back here figurin to get help to search that area. I rode all night and was mighty glad of that full moon to see the trail."

Doc agreed with Chester that the casing, especially considering the blood on Matt's saddle, was a bad sign. Thinking it would be a good thing to have Chester along, he showed him the ransom note and the note from Kitty. That casing was also a mighty strong indication that Floyd Dunbart had help. Doc never had figured that Floyd Dunbart was good enough to take Matt.

Chester was quick to agree that they needed to get after the two of them right away. He knew his boss didn't hold with paying ransoms, and worse, the only kidnapping Chester had personal experience with had ended with a delivered ransom and a dead victim.

They agreed that the best chance of finding Kitty and Matt was to find the kidnappers, and their best chance of doing that was following the instructions in the ransom note Kitty had left. Doc shared his thoughts with Chester. "That casing makes it look like Matt was shot back on the trail to Hays. The fresh blood on his saddle tells me he survived and somehow managed to ride all the way to wherever it is those men are holed up. And, wherever that is, it can't be far from Dodge."

Chester didn't like not searching the area back where he found the shell casing, but like Doc said, if Mr. Dillon was still alive, he was probably some where around here and still with the kidnappers. Chester tied his horse onto the back of the wagon and climbed up to ride with Doc.

It hadn't taken them long to get to the farmhouse, and they approached carefully, just in case the kidnappers were close, but the place was abandoned. They did see signs that horses and men had been there, but nothing that helped them any. The money was gone from the old stove. There were fingerprints in the dust, some small and some large. It looked like Kitty had left the money all right, and it had been picked up.

Chester went to fill their canteens and get a bucket of water for the horses from the old well and was excited to find puddles of water near the base of the well. That was a sure sign that some one had been there very recently. In the dry heat of Kansas, those small puddles would disappear quickly.

The two men were galvanized by the realization that they couldn't be far behind the kidnappers but were still at a loss as to what to do next. Knowing the outlaws had been there recently didn't tell them which direction to go, but it did give them a sense of urgency. Doc knew Chester had spent a lot of time out on the prairie with Matt and wanted his input. "Chester, which way do you think it makes the most sense to go?"

Chester was a little flustered. He knew a wrong choice could mean they never did find Miss Kitty or Mr. Dillon. "I just don't rightly know what way we oughta go. The way I see it, we got three options. We could go back to the road to Jetmore and then head towards Jetmore or back to Dodge. It don't make no sense at all to go back to Dodge. So, if we go that away, I reckon it makes the most sense to go towards Jetmore. The only other choice we got is that small trail leading off of this here cutoff to the northeast. It mostly just goes out on the prairie is all. Mr. Dillon and I have used it a time or two. You could get to Hays that a way, but nobody uses it anymore because they's lots easier ways to go. That is unless you just happened to live at this here house."

Doc considered the information Chester provided. In some ways it made sense to go to Jetmore. There was no law to bother them there and the kidnappers would have access to food and water. Floyd must be familiar with the town since that was where he'd robbed the bank. Of course, if that other trail could take you to Hays City, it might make sense that they would be out that way seeing as that was where Matt had been headed when he disappeared. They would have had to come from that direction, even if they went on to Jetmore.

"Chester, lets get started and we'll look and see if we see any signs that anyone has used that trail going towards Hays. We'll make the decision there."

As they reached the junction, Chester dutifully climbed down from the wagon to look around, although he wasn't at all sure what to look for. "Doc, they's just hoof prints everywhere, pointing in all directions. I just can't tell which ones we oughta follow. I'm gonna walk on down the trail and see if I see signs of horses heading east."

Doc was feeling mighty conflicted. His friends were depending on him to make the right choice.

Chester had walked about 50 yards down the trail when he saw an old brown slouch hat half buried in the weeds along the trail. He picked it up and then hurried back to Doc with that distinctive hop/skip gait he employed when he needed to move fast. "Doc, looky here what I found. You think this could mean something?"

Doc looked the hat over, didn't remember ever seeing it before, but he figured it did mean someone had used that trail in the not too distant past, but it didn't tell him whether they'd been coming or going. He looked inside thinking maybe there might be some initials or something. It was then that he saw the two long strands of red hair tangled in the liner. He looked up and smiled at Chester, pointed at his discovery. The two men nodded in agreement and headed down the small trail. It wasn't much to go on, but it was something.

Chester had taken over the reins and was pushing the horses fast, because he knew it was urgent to find the missing pair as soon as possible, but the longer they traveled the harder it was to keep hope alive. Their spirits, which had been buoyed by first finding the wet ground and then the slouch hat with the long strands of red hair, were slowly sinking. They were making fast progress across the prairie, but the frustration in both men grew as each had to acknowledge that the possibility of success was remote. They had no destination in mind. There wasn't even any reason for the people they were following to stay on this trail if they'd used it at all. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, but instead they were looking for two people being held captive somewhere on the Kansas prairie, two people who meant a lot to each of them and who might already be dead.

Chester finally broke the heavy silence. "Doc, there just ain't nothing out here for miles and miles, I just don't know how we're ever gonna find em."

"We have to keep trying, Chester. One way or the other, we have to find them."

"Well forevermore, I didn't mean we should give up. I just meant, well I dunno what I meant. It's just that I been terrible worried about Mr. Dillon since I found that shell casing, and now Miss Kitty's gone and come out here somewhere and got herself lost, or taken, or something. What could she have been thinkin? Takin that ransom money out to that farmhouse and not telling nobody. She just oughta have more sense than that. I'm just plumb worried outta my head is what I am."

For once, Doc was in complete agreement. "Me too, Chester."

"Doc, whatcha mean by 'one way or the other'. You didn't mean dead, did ya? That ain't what you meant is it. That ain't why you brought this big wagon is it?"

"Dadgummit, Chester. I brought this wagon in case one of them was hurt. I just wanted to be prepared. Now calm down, and keep your eyes looking out there. We know that Kitty went out to that farmhouse yesterday afternoon and we found that hat with strands of her hair, so she just has to be out here somewhere, and we're gonna find her."

"Good gracious, I know that, Doc . It's just that that Floyd Dunbart's crazy. Most men, you know, they wouldn't hurt a woman like Miss Kitty. Mr. Dillon aint gonna like it one little bit that she came out here all by herself." Chester was silent for a few moments. "I just wish Mr. Dillon was here right now, cause he'd know how to find her. You know he would, Doc."

"He sure would, Chester. He sure would." Doc didn't bother mentioning that if Matt were here, Kitty would have stayed in Dodge, and they wouldn't be in this mess.

Chester flicked the reins to speed the horses up. Both men were exhausted after getting no sleep the previous night, but neither even considered giving up. They plodded on, each man clinging to his hopes and spurning his fears, when the silence of the prairie was suddenly shattered by the sound of one gunshot, and then another followed by two more in rapid succession, then one last gunshot. The sound of the shots rolled across the flat prairie, the dying echo of the last one followed by an eerie silence. There had been a total of five shots and they sounded to be pretty far in the distance and off the trail to the west.

The two men briefly locked gazes, worry for the people they cared about clearly evident on each man's face. Chester urged the horses forward. "Doc, there's a cave over that away. Me and Mr. Dillon stayed in it one time to shelter from the rain. Maybe that's where they been holdin em."

To be continued…


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Carnage

Staring down the barrel of Floyd's gun, Matt knew he had only a split second to consider any effort to change his future. Then fate, in the form of Caleb, stepped out of the shadows, his gun drawn, and both men shifted focus to him.

Caleb stepped closer to Floyd, spoke softly. "Put the gun down, Floyd. It's all over."

Floyd shifted his focus from Matt to Caleb, his eyes filled with tears. "No Caleb, it ain't over. It ain't never gonna be over till he's dead." He again focused on Matt. "Once he's dead, it'll be over, and I'll finally be safe. He deserves to die. Once I kill him, Harold'll forgive me. It was his fault Harold got hurt, and once I kill him, there won't be nobody to tell Pa that I didn't take care of Harold like I promised." He glared at Matt. "…Nobody."

"Floyd, you done enough hurting; I ain't gonna let you kill him." Caleb lowered his gun and reached his hand out towards his brother. "C'mon, Floyd, I'll take care of ya."

Floyd sighed, slowly lowered his gun and started to take his brother's offered hand. Then, at the last minute, he shouted, "No!" raised the gun, and pulled the trigger.

Caleb's gun clattered to the floor as he slowly sank to his knees, an expression of disbelief on his face as bright red blood spread across his chest. He briefly met his brother's gaze before pitching forward to lay deathly still on the cave floor.

Matt, already lunging for Caleb's gun, felt white hot pain rip through his chest and shoulder as Floyd fired again. Undeterred, he continued to scramble across the cave floor to reach the gun, knew it was his only chance to save himself and Kitty. His manacled hands extended, and his fingers finally closed around the handle even as he heard two more shots fired. The expected pain didn't come, and he rolled to his back, bringing the gun up and firing in one smooth motion. He was stunned to see blood spreading across Floyd's shirt, even as his own shot, accurate as always, struck Floyd right between the eyes.

Certain Floyd was dead; Matt shifted his eyes, seeking Kitty, trying to make sense of the previous two gunshots. She was kneeling on the cave floor near where she had fallen when he pushed her, a red stain blossoming on her shirt.

She met Matt's gaze, saw the question in his eyes. Her eyes tracked to the derringer in her hand as it slipped from her fingers. Answer enough.

The source and fate of the two gunshots was solved, but everything, except the blood on Kitty's shirt, was irrelevant to Matt as the gun dropped from his shackled hands, and he struggled to rise, to reach the woman he loved, but his body betrayed him, and he collapsed back to the cave floor, the last reserves of his strength depleted.

He was vaguely aware that Kitty was somehow at his side, her hands checking him for signs of life. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Kitty," he breathed. He could see the blood soaking her shirt, too much blood. He tried to reach up and offer comfort, but the iron on his wrists was too heavy. He couldn't think, knew there was something important he needed to tell her, and then, he finally remembered. "Kitty, you've got to get out of here before Cass gets back. He saw her shaking her head no as she held tight to him.

Then, looking over Kitty's shoulder, Matt saw Cass move into the room followed by Jeb with his gun at the ready. He saw Cass take in the carnage that lay in front of him, Floyd, his dead eyes staring at nothing and Caleb, lying prone in a pool of blood. Cass pulled his gun, stepped around Kitty and placed the barrel between Matt's eyes. For the second time in a few short minutes, Matt looked at certain death. This time, he couldn't even contemplate resistance.

Then he saw Kitty raise Caleb's gun, the one he himself had dropped when he saw the blood on her shirt. It looked so big with both her small hands wrapped around the handle, finger on the trigger. Her eyes were like blue ice as she threatened Cass. "Drop it, or I will kill you." Matt felt like some strange spectator at his own death as events spiraled out of his control.

Cass's eyes were dead pools of hate and pain. "I'm already dead; he killed my sons, and now I'm going to kill him."

Matt watched Cass's finger on the trigger, distractedly anticipated the sound of two gunshots, one for him and one for Cass. He had no doubt that Kitty would shoot, and he fervently hoped there would not be a third. Then fate again intervened, as Caleb groaned, and for the second time, the boy postponed Matt's death. Every eye tracked to see Caleb struggle to raise his head. "Don't, Pa. Don't. Floyd… lied about everything…everything. It was Floyd… shot me." Then Caleb lost his battle to rise and collapsed back to the cave floor.

Cass dropped his gun, hurried to his son's side, gently rolled him over, checking him for signs of life. Jeb hadn't moved, momentarily in shock, his gun hung uselessly at his side, then, finally, he dropped it to the floor as he joined his father at Caleb's side.

At the same time, Kitty looked at the gun in her hands, opened her fingers, and let it fall. She shifted her gaze to Matt, smiled weakly before slipping down, wriggling under the heavy cuffs and resting her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him and clutching his shirt as she slowly lost consciousness. Matt pulled her tight against his chest. It seemed he laid like that for a long time, holding Kitty close to him, surrounded by silence. Her warm breath on his bare chest and her steady heartbeat reassured him and gave him hope, but he knew she needed help. They both needed help. He heard a commotion and struggled to lift his head to identify the cause, but somehow, it was more than he could manage. He heard Cass demand, "Who are you?"

A man stepped out of the darkness and into the lamplight. He responded, "I'm a doctor."

Cass responded somewhat superfluously as far as Matt was concerned, "We've need of you." Matt wanted to say something, but he lost his last tenuous grip on consciousness. His last thought was that he could rest now. Doc would take care of Kitty.

To be continued...


	24. Chapter 24

Dr. McCoy _: "All that time in space, getting on each other's nerves. And what do we do when shore leave comes along? We spend it together. Other people have families."_  
Captain Kirk _:_ _"Other people, Bones. Not us."_

Star Trek V: The Final Frontier

Chapter 24: The Aftermath

As Doc stepped into the small chamber, he saw that the floor was literally littered with bodies. He sought to control his emotions as he saw that Kitty and Matt were among them. Right now, they needed a doctor, not a friend… at least he hoped they needed a doctor, and that he would be enough. He could almost feel his emotional shields dropping into place. He was grateful for his wartime experience at times like these. Outwardly calm, he moved forward crouched and focused first on Kitty.

Chester moved into the room right behind him, his rifle at ready. His brown eyes hardening as he took in the bloodied forms of Miss Kitty and his boss crumpled on the cave floor. "Doc, Mr. Dillon and Miss Kitty… are they alive?"

At the same time, Chester pointed his gun at the two other men in the room. "You two, move away; get over in that corner. What kind a men are you anyways, hurtin a woman and beatin a man thataway?"

Jeb stood and obediently followed the instructions, but Cass stayed right where he was. "This is my boy. He needs me. I promise I won't cause any trouble." Chester looked to Doc for guidance.

Finished with his initial and most cursory of examinations, Doc allayed Chester's fears. "They're alive, Chester, and just let him stay with the boy, but check them all for guns. And get all these loose guns that are laying around out of here." Chester quickly checked the two men and found them to be unarmed. He then gathered up the guns scattered around the room. He found five of them, four colt revolvers and one derringer, and not a one of them was Mr. Dillon's.

"Doc, this just don't make a lick a sense at all. Nobody's got a gun, they's all these guns on the floor, and all these people been shot. I just don't know what to make of it."

"Well, don't worry about that right now, Chester. Just watch those men don't do any more hurting. We'll sort it out later. And get that dead body out of here as soon as you get a chance." The bullet hole between his two unseeing eyes was proof enough that he was no longer among the quick. "Then bring in those extra lanterns I saw out in the outer cave. I'm gonna need more light. And get some water boiling so I can sterilize my instruments."

Jeb stood and volunteered. "I can take care of the fire and get the water boiling. We already got the wood and kindling gathered."

Doc nodded his agreement.

While Doc went to work helping the injured, Chester quickly set about carrying out his other instructions. First he unloaded all the guns except one, which he stuck in his belt. He piled the rest of them over in the corner. Then, once the fire was going, Chester got the young fella to help him drag the body out and bring in the lanterns. Once those chores were completed Jeb returned to sit in the far corner of the cave and Chester stood watch.

Doc focused on Kitty first. He carefully lifted Matt's manacled hands and tried to roll her off the big lawman. He was briefly stymied until he realized her hands were entwined in Matt's shirt. He gently freed the shirt from her grip and again lifted the manacles enough to carefully roll her to her back. Matt, though still unconscious moaned softly and shifted as if reaching for something lost. Doc took a moment to grasp Matt's shoulder and reassure him he was here and he was taking care of Kitty. Doc knew even unconscious men could sometimes hear.

Doc was alarmed at the amount of blood soaking the front of Kitty's shirt and quickly pulled it open to assess the damage. The bullet had gone in just under the last vertebrochondral rib. He was relieved to see that she didn't seem to be showing any respiratory distress. He quickly packed and tightly bandaged the wound to slow the bleeding which was his main concern at the moment. He needed to get the bullet out but thought he had some time. He just couldn't believe these men had shot her like this. It hurt Doc deep inside. He took a deep breath, knew he needed to stay objective. He had two more patients to assess and then the real work would begin.

He moved to Matt next. The irons still on his wrists made it difficult to peel the torn remnants of his already unbuttoned shirt back and get a good look at him. What he could see didn't look good. He looked up at the older man and acerbically demanded, "Where the hell is the key?"

Cass pulled his eyes from his boy and gave the doctor a blank look. "Key?"

"To the irons. I need the key."

"Floyd's got it. He's dead," the man replied, his voice strangely flat.

Doc sighed in exasperation. "Chester, go see if you can find the key."

Chester hurried to search the dead man's pockets for the key while Doc started to check the gash above Matt's eye. He'd definitely taken a bad beating, but, with the exception of the cut over his eye, most of the bruises and abrasions on his face seemed minor. That jagged cut over his left eye was bad though and surrounded by extensive bruising and swelling. It needed stitches but no hurry on that. He checked his pupils and found them uneven, a sure sign of a concussion or worse. He'd need to watch that. You never really knew what kind of damage might be inside a man's head.

He looked up, wondering where the hell that key was just as a breathless Chester came rushing into the room, bent over the unconscious Marshal and unlocked the shackles. "Oh my goodness, Doc, Mr. Dillon's wrists are just a mess. Whoever put them on him like this just oughta be shot."

Doc looked up at him, shook his head and thought, if the situation wasn't so serious, he might have something to say about that. Instead he quickly pulled the remnants of Matt's shirt off his torso. He winced at the extensive bruising and swelling, ran his hands gently, but expertly over his ribs found one maybe two probably broken. Someone had kicked Matt and kicked him repeatedly. All his years as a Doctor, and he still found the cruelty some men inflicted on others to be just unbelievable.

Matt's wrists were also raw and abraded. Chester was right. Whoever put those cuffs on him had wanted him to hurt. He also saw that his right hand had been injured. His fingers and palm were bruised and swollen, but at least nothing appeared broken. The bruises were already yellowing telling Doc that this injury had happened several days ago. Doc mentally catalogued, gun hand injured, but nothing permanent.

Far more concerning were the two bullet holes, one several days old and badly infected. Infection could kill a man. Thankfully, Matt had already shown he had one helluva an ability to fight off infection. "Chester, get the carbolic acid out of my bag." The more recent one was serious, but Matt had survived much worse, although he was usually in quite a bit better shape than this when he managed to get himself shot. Doc packed the new wound to slow the bleeding. "Chester, I want you to pour that on the infected bullet wound. Soak it real good. Clean it out as best you can. It might hurt him some, but it's got to be done." Doc knew Chester wasn't gonna like it, but he'd do it, and Doc needed all the help he could get.

Cass watched the doctor examine each of Matt's injuries and saw that this man was more than just a lawman and a patient to the doctor, a lot more. He'd seen in Dodge that the Doc cared about the Marshal, but now he could see he cared about him almost the way he, himself, cared for his sons. Maybe Dillon did deserve to die for what he done, although after what Caleb said, he wasn't even sure of that anymore. But no matter what, there was no excuse for treating any kind of man the way they'd done; he'd just let himself be blinded by Floyd's hurt and his own hate for the man he held responsible for taking Harold and Agnes from him. He was ashamed.

Cass figured Doc had a big hate for him, but Caleb needed his help bad, and Cass was determined to get it. He took advantage of the Doctor's momentary lull in activity to ask for that help, beg if need be. "Doc, I know I ain't got no right, but would you take a look at my son? He's hurt real bad and he's just a boy and didn't have nothing to do with hurting your friends." He dropped his head. "That was all my doing. Please help him."

Doc had been intending to check the boy over next and quickly answered, nodding his head in emphasis, "I'll do my best to help him."

"Thank you, Doc. I'm much obliged, and like I said, I know I got no right to ask."

Doc didn't miss the man's sincere thanks and wondered, not for the first time since he'd arrived, exactly what the hell had happened here. He also didn't know the boy's role in all this, but he just couldn't let himself think about it. He was a doctor and it was his job to do everything he could for him, and, his Pa was right, he was just a boy. Doc hoped he'd have the opportunity to grow to manhood… and that he had it in him to be a decent man.

The boy had taken the bullet high on the right side of his chest, and he was struggling to breath. He needed surgery and he needed it now. Problem was, Doc knew his chances were poor. Matt and Kitty were stable, but this boy was not. Still, there'd be a risk to Matt and Kitty if he spent time trying to save this kid first. No question, he was conflicted. My God, these people had shot Kitty and Matt. And they'd beaten and kicked Matt as well. They'd just abused him something awful. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of men they were. It was times like this that he wished he was a storekeeper or a banker, maybe even a U.S. Marshal. But, he wasn't any of those things, he was a doctor, and it wasn't his job to judge the decisions people made; he was going to try to save this boy. He shook his head and scrubbed at his mustache. He'd made his decision, and he'd live with the consequences. He hoped he wasn't saving him for the hangman.

He turned to the father. "Mr. uh…"

"Just call me, Cass."

"Ok, well, Cass, your boy, here, is in real bad shape. I'm just not sure I can save him."

Cass looked at the Doc, pain clear in his eyes. "But you'll try?"

"Yeah, I'll try, but I'm gonna need your help."

"Anything, Doc."

"And that other young fella, what's his name?" Doc motioned to the young man in the far corner of the cave sitting on the ground hunched over his knees.

"That's Jeb, he's my oldest and this one is Caleb, and he's the youngest."

"Jeb, can you get these extra lanterns and get them set up around your brother here, so I can see? I'll also be needing you to hold one of them and move it where and when I tell ya. Chester, you keep a real close eye on Matt and Kitty. Let me know if there's any change at all."

Jeb scrambled to his feet, clearly pleased to be able to help.

Doc had marshaled his forces like a field general and soon had everything set up to start the surgery. "Cass, you start dropping the ether on the mask just like I told you, and stop when I say. I'll let you know if I need more. Then just keep an eye on your boy; let me know if you see any changes." As soon as he figured Caleb was under, Doc started the surgery. He had to get that bullet out without damaging the lung and then he was going to need to drain the blood out of there so it didn't put any pressure on the pleural cavity. It was going to be tricky and he needed to be fast. Matt and Kitty needed him, and the boy couldn't afford to lose much more blood.

An hour later, Doc took a deep breath. The bullet was out, an opening left for drainage, and everything sewed up. The surgery had gone as well as could be expected, and Caleb had come through remarkably well. He could still lose him, but his chances were considerably improved. The young had amazing healing powers. He climbed to his feet and stretched his back. He was definitely too old to be operating on someone lying on the floor of a cave. It did put him in mind of his younger years when he'd performed surgery on soldiers in just about every place imaginable.

He turned to Jeb and Chester. "Could you fellas move those lanterns over near Kitty? I'm going to operate on her next." It was an easy decision and one Doc knew Matt would want him to make. She was in better shape than Matt, but Matt was a U.S. Marshal; he made the choice to risk his life, and Doc knew from previous experience that he had an amazing capacity for survival.

Kitty never should have been here. She'd followed Matt out here, and Doc was going to have a talk with Matt about that. He just couldn't lose Kitty. He'd known for a long time that she had come to mean a lot to him, but the events of the last few days had made him realize that she had somehow become family. He didn't want to lose Matt either, but he'd long ago resigned himself to that possibility, and Kitty had to come first.

He had everything set up for his second surgery and had re-sterilized all his instruments. Cass was going to handle the ether again. Much to Doc's relief, Kitty's surgery just went like clock work. She was very lucky. The bullet had grazed her rib near the costal cartilage, deflected laterally, and come to rest against the same rib. The damage had been minimal, and the only complication was making sure the few splinters from the impacted rib were removed. He acknowledged his luck, knew bullets could do crazy things inside of a person. He thoroughly sterilized the surgical area and very carefully sewed her up. He used the smallest neatest stitches he could manage. As long as she avoided infection, she was going to be good as new in no time at all. He also took a quick look at the bruise and cut on her head. The bruise was nasty looking, but the cut was superficial, not even requiring stitches. Two down, and so far everything was going better than anticipated. He just hoped his run of luck continued. He was exhausted, but his success so far definitely buoyed his spirits.

"Ok, Gentlemen, lets move these lanterns one more time. Then we'll get started on this overgrown civil servant." He smiled at his use of the familiar affectionate, if derisive, address. It might not be the most respectful appellation he could have chosen, but it definitely fit the big lawman. He stood up, stretched his back and took a short walk to the cave entrance to breath some fresh air. He gave himself five minutes to get the kinks out before returning to start his third operation. During the war he'd sometimes done twenty surgeries in a day, but that had been a long time ago. Dodge was a wild and wooly town, but it was rare to have more than one surgery in a day, and none of them on a cave floor. Since Matt had arrived in Dodge, there'd been a lot fewer gunshot injuries for him to tend. And most times when Matt shot someone, they needed a mortician, not a doctor.

In no time at all, he was ready to get started on his last patient of the day. By now, Cass had become an expert at using the ether and mask. Matt was soon under, and Doc went to work. The bullet had struck Matt in the upper left chest, thankfully a good distance from his heart and lungs, and had angled downward, coming to rest near the medial border of the scapula. He had been able to remove the bullet quickly. It was deep, but had followed a straight path. That injury was going to give Matt some pain for a while, but Doc expected a full recovery. Matt would be glad it was on the left side so his gun hand wouldn't be impacted. In the years he'd known Matt, he'd come to know the things the Marshal valued.

Since Matt was still under, he took advantage of the anesthesia to clean out the infection in his side. Chester had done a good job, but he needed to debride the wound and make sure it was cleaned out all the way through. Infection could kill a man. Matt had been mighty lucky that bullet had gone straight through him. Carrying a bullet all this time would have probably killed him. He then took a few minutes to carefully clean the torn flesh on Matt's wrists, pouring carbolic acid over them before gently wrapping them in protective bandages. The last thing he did was to suture the cut above his eyebrow. He carefully matched the edges of the torn tissue together and used careful, neat stitches. There would hardly be a scar. Matt wouldn't care, but he did. He was a surgeon, and he took pride in his work.

Finished at last, he had Chester, Cass, and Jeb bring in the mattresses and blankets he'd brought from the jail and get his patients up off the cold and hard cave floor.

Then, with all of his patients treated and comfortable, he sat down and leaned back against the cave wall. It sure wasn't very comfortable, but it seemed to be the best seat available. He dropped his head back against the rock. He'd been up all night delivering Mrs. Hoffmeir's baby, then had come racing out here after Kitty, and now night was coming again. Physically and emotionally he was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep, but knew he needed to keep his patients under close observation. Caleb in particular needed his careful attention. He also needed to check Matt every couple of hours. Concussions could cause unexpected problems. It was, potentially, the most dangerous of Matt's injuries. Tired as he was, a smile of satisfaction crept across his face. He'd saved them all. Against all odds, he still had his family.

Too be continue


	25. Chapter 25

Three Days Later

Chapter 25: Cass

Cass sat quietly by Caleb's side holding his hand. Doc said he was out of the woods now, and Cass could see he was breathing easier and his color was back. Either he or Jeb had sat by him since the doctor had taken the bullet out. He was stable enough that they'd be heading to Dodge in the morning.

Caleb had been awake quite a bit today. He'd told Cass what really happened the day Harold died and what happened in the cave during those last hours before he and Jeb returned with the ransom money. It had been hard for Cass to hear how wrong he'd been, but he was glad to know that Harold hadn't died alone. He owed Dillon for that. He wished Agnes could have known. It would have soothed her some.

Chester was over near the entrance to the chamber. He had his rifle in his lap and was keeping a close watch on him and Jeb. Jeb was sitting back against the cave wall now. Jeb hadn't had much to say since they'd come back and found Floyd dead and Caleb shot. Cass knew Jeb was worried about his young family and what was going to happen to them when he went to prison…or worse.

Cass had thought Caleb was dead, and whatever else happened, he was grateful that his youngest boy was going to live, that he hadn't died at the hands of his damaged brother. Caleb was special to him. He was the future, untouched by the horrors of the war.

The doctor was asleep in the outer cave getting some well-earned rest. Cass owed him a debt that he couldn't repay and wasn't likely to ever have the opportunity to repay. He'd saved Caleb, had even tended him before his friends. Seemed to Cass he owed everybody.

Cass figured there was a good chance he might hang for all this. He was responsible for a long list of crimes, shooting and beating a U.S. Marshal with the plainly-spoken intent to murder him, shooting a woman, kidnapping, and collecting ransom. He deserved hanging. He just hoped he could keep his boys from the gallows. He'd failed as a father. Jeb with his new family and Caleb on the brink of manhood, and he'd brought them both to this.

When Floyd came home from the war, he'd been so different. The carefree young man had come home bitter and hate filled, suffered from uncontrolled rages. He'd told him and his Ma his twisted version of what had happened to Harold, and Cass always figured that Harold's horrible death, dying alone and impaled by a tree had somehow broken Floyd, and he guessed it had. Floyd had cracked that day in Tennessee when the tree impaled Harold. Cass figured he lost two sons on that battlefield. He just hoped his own stupid behavior wasn't going to cost him his remaining two sons.

Agnes tried so hard to mother Floyd, to fix him, but he just got worse and worse. The more they tried to love him, the more the hate in him grew, the less he was connected to reality. It wore on Agnes, and she had terrible nightmares about Harold, about him dying alone and in horrible pain. She would wake up screaming that she had to get to Harold, that he was hurting, and he needed his mother to comfort him, that he was all alone. Cass would find her crying all the time, and she just stopped caring. Eventually, she just withered away.

After she died, Cass tried to look out for Floyd, got him out of scrape after scrape. He brought Caleb and Jeb to Kansas to keep Floyd from hanging only to find out it was Matt Dillon that had brought his boy in to hang.

Cass had come to hate the name Matthew Dillon almost as much as Floyd did. He blamed him for everything he lost. That misplaced hate brought him and his two remaining sons to this sad point in their lives. Now he knew that all the hate that poisoned his mind had been planted by a lie, and he had nurtured it, let it grow into something he couldn't control. Maybe, if Floyd had faced the truth, things would have been different for Floyd, for Agnes, for all of them. It was too late for that now. That lie had festered in the boy.

Floyd was dead now, free of all that pain, guilt, and hate he had been carrying since the war. In the end, Dillon had fired the shot that killed Floyd, but Cass realized that the war really killed his boy. Dillon had just finished the job. He was grateful that Floyd hadn't managed to kill anyone else, especially the woman. Cass wouldn't have been able to bear the guilt of that.

Cass glanced surreptitiously over at the young lawman. Now that he looked at him as a man, instead of a monster, he saw how young he was to be carrying the heavy responsibilities of a U.S. Marshal. He didn't even look to be as old as Floyd. He could see that he was talking quietly with Miss Russell. Well, the lady was mostly talking, and the Marshal was listening, but the smile on his face told Cass that the young Marshal was quite smitten with the beautiful redhead.

It was hard for Cass to understand how the man came to fight for the union. He, himself, had opposed seceding from the union and going to war, but he never could have brought himself to fight against Texas. He guessed making that decision probably took its own special kind of courage. He still didn't know a lot about Dillon, but a man with the kind of friends he had, surely had good in him.

He thought about the Marshal's friends. There was Chester with his kind eyes. It was easy to see he idolized the lawman. Cass didn't think there was much doubt that Chester would follow that man into a hail of bullets with no chance of survival. Then there was Kitty, brave, kind, and beautiful. As far as Cass was concerned, she was perfect. And the Doc, he had a mighty sharp tongue, and he'd used it on all of them, except Kitty. But no matter how sharp his tongue, his hands were always kind. Doc cared about people. He tried to hide behind a gruff exterior, but Cass had a way of seeing a man for who he was. He scoffed to himself. Too bad he was so blinded by hate that he hadn't even been able to see Matt Dillon as human.

When Dillon first came around and was cognizant of his surrounding, Cass had seen that his first concern had been for the young woman. Cass had been surprised that once he had assured himself she was safe and well, or at least healing, his second voiced concern had been for Caleb, seemed to genuinely care about the boy. Then, when his eyes found Chester, he'd asked him to find his gun and gun belt. Chester had found it in Floyd's saddlebags and brought it to him. It now rested near his shoulder, within easy reach.

The doctor had shaken his head when he heard the request but kept his peace. Cass figured that he didn't approve but understood it gave the young lawman some peace to have it close.

Kitty had been the first of Doc's patients to wake up. Doc had propped her up with one of the saddles and some blankets. If the way she looked at Dillon was any indication, she was definitely in love with that man. Cass had seen her reach over to hold his hand or run her fingers through his hair. Sometimes she just seemed to be touching him to assure herself he was there.

Cass couldn't look at her without thinking of his beloved Agnes. Both had that flaming red hair, but where Agnes had been fragile, this woman had an iron core. He'd been shocked when he picked up the ransom, and there was only $500. That woman bluffed him. It was a terrible weight on him that he involved her in his terrible revenge scheme, and that Floyd shot her.

He also wouldn't soon forget looking down the barrel of that colt she had clutched in her two small hands. Her shirt covered in blood, but her hands steady as a rock and her eyes cold as ice. He would never have believed a woman to be capable of killing a man until he'd seen the look in her eyes, but at that point, nothing, not even death, could have kept him from putting a bullet in Dillon's brain… nothing except Caleb calling out to him. Thank God Caleb had stopped him from murder.

Caleb was asleep, and Cass figured he should go over and tell the lawman how sorry he was for everything. It was hard to find the words for it though. Looking back, it seemed he should have had better sense. When he heard the reaction of the townspeople when that big buckskin came into town, he should known that the Marshal wasn't the monster he thought. He had been a blind fool. Well, the words weren't likely to ever come to him, and he needed to get it done. He rose and walked over to the lawman.

Cass saw Chester lift the rifle as he approached the lawman and he raised his hands slightly and nodded towards the young jailer, letting him know he meant no harm. He dropped down to one knee to be more on eye level with the injured man. "Dillon…uh, Marshal Dillon?"

Matt looked up, curious as to what brought Cass over to him.

Cass took a deep breath. "I want to apologize to you for everything me and my sons did to you. Well, mostly me and Floyd. I got no excuse. I'm just terrible sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I am sorry. I was a damn fool."

Matt's eyes shifted first to Kitty, then back to Cass. "You coulda got Kitty killed. I just can't forgive you that. But, I'll try to understand your reasons."

"I thank you for that, and I understand. I just wanted to let you know, I feel ashamed." Caleb shifted his gaze to the beautiful red-headed woman. "Miss Russell, I want to apologize to you too. I'm real sorry about bringing you into all this. I was raised to treat women with respect and to protect them, and I didn't do that, and I'm sorry."

Kitty appeared confused by the apology and unsure of what to say, finally responding, "Thank you, Cass. I know you were thinking different when you did all that."

Cass stood and mumbled, "Thank you, Ma'am."

To be continued…


	26. Chapter 26

" _If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you"_

A.A. Milne

Chapter 26: The Only Thing I Really Understand

As Cass walked back to his place near Caleb, Matt turned his gaze to inspect Kitty. He needed to constantly remind himself that she was going to be all right. He had felt the need to reassure himself of that every few minutes since he regained consciousness, his eyes constantly seeking hers, his hands constantly reaching for her to be sure she was really here with him. He just couldn't stop the visions of her struggling in Floyd's arms, him grinding himself against her, and then seeing her kneeling on the floor of the cave with blood spreading across her shirt. What he had seen, and what could have happened, was weighing heavy on him. And he did have one question that was really bothering him, and he pretty much had to have an answer.

"Kitty, where did you get that derringer?"

"It was in the pocket of my jeans."

"You had it the whole time, and you didn't tell me?"

"You gave it to me for my birthday, if you remember, and I brought it with me. But then with everything that was going on, I forgot about it."

"You just forgot you had a gun? Matt was thinking that was the sort of thing he would never forget, but maybe women were different.

"Well, remember I fell off my horse and hit my head, and once Floyd brought me in to see you, everything started happening really fast. And besides, Matt, a gun is just not the first thing I think about. The first thing I think of is talking my way out of trouble, and it seemed like I was dealing with one disaster after the next. When I first saw you, you almost got yourself killed, acting crazy. Then once we were alone, you were hurt so terribly that you kept drifting.

She paused before continuing and Matt could see the pain in her eyes, and he had to admit to himself that seeing him like that had hurt her. She took a deep breath. "I needed information from you, and I could barely keep you conscious, and we weren't alone very long. I remembered the gun after you pushed me down on the ground, and Floyd shot Caleb. I was desperate to get the gun out. I knew you would be next, but by the time I got to my knees and got it out, Floyd had already shot you."

She paused again, remembered her terror as Matt had launched himself across the cave in a desperate effort to get Caleb's gun, and Floyd shot him. She felt like she was never going to get that gun out of her pocket. She knew she had to stop Floyd before he fired again, hoped she wasn't already too late.. Finally, the gun was in her hands, and she was pulling the trigger. She saw Floyd's attention, and gun, shift to her as blood stained his shirt, and then she felt the sharp burning pain in her chest as he pulled the trigger. She saved Matt; the bullet meant for him found her. She remembered the terrible hot pain of it. Then the sound of another shot, but this time it was Matt pulling the trigger. Matt killed Floyd before he could fire again and saved her, saved them both.

She shook her head, pulling herself back to the present. She looked directly into Matt's eyes. "But I did stop Floyd from shooting you anymore."

Matt swallowed, his emotions churning as he thought about what an incredibly brave woman she was. No man deserved a woman like her. He bought the gun for her and made sure she could use it effectively, so she would have protection, but instead she used it to protect him, and having it nearly got her killed. "That you did, Kitty, but you almost got yourself killed, and I keep telling ya, …I can take care of..."

She cut him off, her tone aggravated. "Oh sure, Matt, another bullet hole or two in you wouldn't have been any problem at all."

Matt reached out, turned her face towards his. "Kitty, I know you saved my life, and I really appreciate it, but I need you to understand that I just can't have you taking those kinds of..."

She interrupted him again, "Matt I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Kitty, you got to promise me that you'll never do anything like that again."

Kitty eyed him stubbornly, "Like what, exactly, Matt?"

"I don't want you leaving Dodge like that, chasing after me. I don't want you taking bullets meant for me. Floyd was gonna… and then he shot ya, Kitty. He shot ya."

"Yeah, well, he shot you too, Matt, and I told you, I make my own decisions." She glared at him. "Don't tell me what to do."

Matt's distress was clear on his features. "Don't you understand what you mean to me? Going home to you was what I thought about when I just wanted to give up. You kept me going."

Kitty's eyes hardened, "Matt Dillon, you don't know the meaning of giving up. And, if I hadn't come after you, you wouldn't have been able to come home to me. Floyd would have killed you."

Matt saw the flint in her eyes, but he pushed on, his own eyes dark with frustration and his mouth a tight line. He knew she was right, but he didn't care. He hadn't been able to protect her and that was unacceptable. His whisper was a near hiss as he struggled to keep from being overheard. "Don't you see that the reason I tried so hard to not love you was because I knew that anyone I loved could be hurt, and used against me?" He looked into her eyes desperately trying to will her to understand. "I can't lose you."

"Matt, I don't want you seeing me as a weakness to worry about, as a hostage that can be used against you, any more than I want to see you as hostage that can be used against me. I don't want to lose you either. Do you have any idea what it was like for me when Buck came home without you, his saddle covered with your blood?"

Matt swallowed, his eyes softening, "I know that hurt ya, Kitty, and, like I keep telling you, I'm sorry. It's just… I'm so afraid of losing you. Floyd had his hands on you, he shot you, and I couldn't stop him."

Kitty smiled at him. She wished there was some way to make him understand that he could try to keep her safe, but he couldn't guarantee her safety any more than she could guarantee his. "Matt, just try to understand that we're stronger together. You did protect me, and I protected you. If either of us had faced this alone, we wouldn't have survived. I don't want to be a weakness that you're always trying to protect, but I do love it that you want to protect me, and there is no other man I trust more. But the people you love and who love you make you stronger…and you make them stronger, not weaker. What would have happened to us if Doc and Chester hadn't come after us?" She paused, already knowing the truth of her next statement, because she had already seen him risk his life for both of his good friends. "And you know that if they needed help, you would do everything you could to save them."

Matt reached over and pulled her hand to his chest. "The only thing I really understand is that I love you, and I can't live without you. I'll try to get used to understanding that I can't tell you what to do."

He thought about the look on her face when she picked up that colt and told Cass to drop his gun or she would kill him. Yeah, he was definitely going to have to get used to the idea he couldn't tell her what to do.

"Oh Matt, I love you too." Looking around and seeing that no one was paying them any attentions, she leaned over to give him a quick, gentle kiss, a kiss with just enough passion to remind him of what he meant to her-everything.

Matt closed his eyes, thoughts of Kitty percolating through his brain. Maybe he was wrong, but he'd been to a wedding or two, and he was pretty sure that a man's woman promised to love, honor, and obey him. Kitty had plenty of love for him, and she sure had honor, even enough to share with him, but it seemed obedience was completely missing. Of course, they weren't really married, but Matt didn't figure that even marriage and a wedding band would make Kitty obedient.

He pledged his mind, body, and heart to her, and he knew they would be hers forever. He reckoned he knew when he made that promise he wasn't getting obedience. As he thought on it, he didn't really think he wanted an obedient woman. A man might want an obedient horse, but an obedient woman might take all the fun out of life. He mostly liked it that Kitty stood with him as an equal, strong, independent, and stubborn. He just didn't like her taking risks with her safety, especially for him, most especially for him. And she was right; she made him stronger. The problem was, now that he had her strength and her love, he knew he couldn't survive without them, and somehow that made her both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

He opened his eyes and caught her gaze. "Thanks for saving my life, Kitty. I really do appreciate it."

To be continued…


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Jail, Hanging, or What?

Matt was lying on the cot in his office thinking, and resting. like he promised Doc. Today was his first day back at work. Doc had insisted on keeping watch over him for more than a week since they got back to town. To get free, he'd had to promise he wouldn't break up any brawls, he'd take care with his damaged ribs, he'd rest, and he'd wear this damn sling. Still it was good to be free, and at least it wasn't his gun arm all tied up and useless. He was pretty sure the pain his ribs were still giving him would keep him to his promise. He couldn't help the silly grin that slid over his face at the thought of where he'd be sleeping tonight. He missed Kitty. Oh she came to visit him every day up at Doc's, brought him meals, and tried to keep him entertained. Problem was, the kind of entertainment he needed couldn't be had while he was being watched over by Doc.

Two days ago, while Doc was supposedly out seeing to a sick cow or some such, he had managed a kiss, and one thing had led to another. Long story short, Doc came back unexpectedly. Somewhat miraculously, they heard him coming up the stairs. Kitty jumped free of his embrace, and they both scrambled to get their hands off one another, her clothes straightened, and his sheet back in place. He didn't think Doc had been fooled though. On the positive side, shortly after that, Doc had agreed to give him his pants and shirt back, and today he'd let him go back to work. Well, halfway back to work.

Thinking back on that hug, Matt was going to be kind of sad when Doc let Kitty go back to wearing that heavy lace-up undergarment. She just felt a lot nicer in his arms without that thing on. And he did like stealing the occasional hug when he happened to catch her alone in her office doing figures or down in the cellar counting things. He wondered what went on in a woman's brain that would make her even consider wearing such a contraption.

Matt's life was definitely looking up. Kitty had gone back to the Long Branch several days ago, and he was on the mend. He had Cass and Jeb locked up in jail. Caleb was still over at Doc's. The problem was, he couldn't quite decide on the individual charges for each one of them. They had each done different things. One thing for sure, these men had dragged Kitty into their crazy revenge scheme. Floyd had shot her, and he could have killed her. He just couldn't get that out of his head. Doc had asked him about the charges he would bring against the men, but he just avoided providing an answer. He couldn't wait much longer though. He'd received a telegram from Judge Brooking this morning. The Judge would be arriving in Dodge tomorrow on the 11:00 stage and these men would be going to trial in the afternoon. He had to decide on the specific charges for each man and get the cases in order. Getting the cases in order wasn't going to be much of a problem, but the exact charges he should bring against each of them was troubling him some.

He looked over at the clock on the wall and climbed to his feet. It wasn't quite time for late rounds, but he was kind of anxious to finish up his day, so he figured he'd get an early start on them. Chester would be staying at the jail to watch the prisoners, not that they needed much watching. They were quiet, and they didn't complain, not even about Chester's coffee.

It was peaceful in Dodge, and, as expected, his late rounds went quickly. He already had the key to Kitty's room out as he turned down the alley and climbed up the familiar stairs. As he turned the key and stepped into her room, all he could think was that it had been way too long since he been alone with her. Kitty was silhouetted by the light from the single candle in the window looking over Front Street. She had watched him come down the street and turn into the alley, and, as he entered the room and locked the door behind him, she turned to face him. He quickly put his hat and gun belt on the wooden pegs and, ignoring the twinge of pain it caused, pulled off the confining sling before moving towards her. Meeting her as she moved towards him, he pulled her into his embrace and buried his face in her hair. He nuzzled her neck and inhaled her scent. There would be no talk now. Both of them needed the physical nearness of the other, and it had been too long since they had been really alone together. She needed the assurance that he was alive and home, and he needed the assurance that she was well, that she still wanted and loved him, that they were safe in one another's arms.

He stepped back, keeping his hands on her shoulders, and lost himself in her eyes. As always, they completely captivated him. Then he slowly allowed his eyes to track down her body. She was wearing a simple blue chemise, which he quickly pulled over her head. He could feel her fingers unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling with his belt. His desire building, he crushed her to his chest, lifted her and gently laid her on the bed, watched the soft light from the full moon playing over her body. Her eyes watched his every move. His were smoldering in the reflected light as they raked across her curves, made slow love to her body. Never breaking that visual contact, he slowly finished divesting himself of his clothes, and then joined her on the bed. His fingers began to follow the same paths his eyes had blazed. He wanted to experience every part of her body with each of his senses, recreating memories. He paused as his fingers encountered the puckered flesh left by Floyd's bullet. He lowered his face to kiss the injury, its presence a seared hole in his soul. He heard her whisper in his ear, "It's all right, Matt. We're both here, and we're stronger than ever. Remember that nothing will ever tear us apart. I love you."

"I love you, too, and I am so sorry for this," he responded. Then she pulled his head up and kissed him, pushing against his body, demanding the union that would unite two strong independent individuals as one, and he responded, losing himself in her body and love.

Afterward they lay quietly together, and he wondered if she knew how much she meant to him, how safe he felt in her arms. It was an absurdity. He was the big bad Marshal of Dodge City, quick with his fists and quicker with his gun, but the only place he felt safe was in the arms of this small woman. He was thinking he would be happy to just remain here forever.

Eventually she asked the inevitable question, "Matt, what are you going to do about Cass, Jeb, and Caleb?"

He responded honestly, "I don't know Kitty. I know they aren't bad men, but they broke the law, and they hurt you, nearly killed you." His body tensed, and he pulled away from her as he remembered seeing the blood soaking her shirt after Floyd had shot her. That moment was branded in his memory.

She shifted her body towards his, laid her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. "It was Floyd that shot me, Matt. Not them."

"But they were part of it."

"You know Jeb has a wife and a little girl waiting for him back on their ranch in Texas."

"Ummmhmmm."

"Caleb is just a boy, barely sixteen. He's too young for prison, Matt."

Matt thought, at least here, there was something they agreed on. He shifted his body slightly, looked into her eyes. "I was thinking that too, Kitty. And he tried to protect us both from Floyd. Took a bullet for me. I'd have been dead at least twice over without his help back in that cave. And besides that, he helped me survive the ride there. I was hurt bad and having a hard time staying in the saddle. I don't think I could have made that long ride without his help. Hell, he kept me from falling off Buck more than a time or two. I was thinking I wouldn't put any charges against him. He wasn't really guilty of anything except trying to be a good brother and son, and, you're right, he's only a boy. I know he's got the makings of a good man."

Kitty lifted her head, gave Matt a soft kiss. "I knew you'd see it that way."

Matt smiled gently at her. "I sure am a lucky man to have you in my life. I love that soft heart of yours."

She again dropped her head to rest on his chest. Listened to the steady rhythm of his heart as her fingers gently caressed the healing wound on his stomach. She could tell it would be a bad scar. Those days that it had gone untended and the infection had made it worse. She reached around to trace the smaller injury on his side where the bullet had entered. "Matt, do you know which one of them did this?"

"Nope, I don't really care."

"Won't that make a difference in the charges?"

Matt thought about it. She was right. It would make a significant difference, and it just now came to him why he hadn't bothered trying to find out who had pulled the trigger. "I was thinking of not listing that in the charges, Kitty."

Kitty knew that shooting a U.S. Marshal from ambush would carry a long prison sentence. Attempted murder of a federal officer, even worse, a federal office escorting a condemned murderer, was a serious crime, maybe even a hanging offense. It was also the one thing she couldn't forgive or forget. That bullet could have killed him, taken him from her. It almost did.

It was the one savagery on his person for which Floyd had not been directly responsible, and she would never forget how she felt when she saw the blood on his saddle. There had been so much of it. She remembered the smell; the iron tang of it had assaulted her senses, the feel of it, thick and slippery but sticky. The worst thing had been the handprint on Buck's neck. The bloody handprint banished any hope that it wasn't his blood; she had traced it, fit her hand in it. She knew without a doubt, it was his. She couldn't help but feel the pain he must have endured on that long ride across the prairie. She could feel tears building in her eyes, blinked them away before he saw. That memory was an open wound on her spirit.

This time it was Kitty that gave Matt the soft kiss. She didn't understand how he could overlook his near murder, but she knew his capacity for forgiveness was part of what she loved. "I love that soft heart of yours too." She laid her head back against his chest.

Matt squirmed a bit uncomfortably. "Kitty, ya know, U.S. Marshals don't like to be called soft-hearted."

Kitty grinned and snuggled deeper against his chest as she felt the vibration of his rumbling voice. "It'll be our little secret, Matt. I promise, I won't tell a single person, but you should know, I think it's one of the big reasons I love you so much." She lifted her head and winked at him. "Oh sure, I was originally attracted by your good looks, all those muscles, and you being a big tough, marshal, but it's that kind heart that made me yours."

"Geez Kitty, that's just enough of that talk."

"Ok, well then, let's talk about Jeb."

"What about him?"

"What are you going to charge him with?" As she waited for her answer, Kitty entertained herself with running her fingers across his chest. "He didn't really do anything in particular."

Matt was having a hard time focusing, and he was trying to think what he could charge him with. He was mostly an accessory. Matt had barely seen him. He'd been quiet, always in the background, or away on an errand. "Well, I'm not sure Kitty. Maybe accessory to kidnapping you and extorting that ransom." He reached out to still her fingers before he completely lost his reasoning ability.

"He didn't really kidnap me. Nobody kidnapped me. I followed Cass to that cave of my own free will. Besides that, I never even saw Jeb until he followed his father into the cave after all the shooting. You could charge him with helping kidnap you, a Federal Marshal." She paused as if reflecting on what he might charge Jeb with. Then she pointed out, "But he might go to jail a long time, and his wife would have to raise their baby girl alone" She sighed, "…down on their little ranch in Texas."

Matt pursed his lips and sighed. "Why do I feel like I'm being manipulated here?" He took a deep breath and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and tried to think of his options. "But you're probably right again. He isn't a bad man and it wouldn't set right with me leaving his family to fend for themselves." Matt couldn't help remembering what it had been like for him growing up without a father, scrabbling to make a living, his mother dying of a broken heart. "I guess I won't be bringing any charges against Jeb either. I suppose I should thank you for clearing that up for me?"

She gave him a glowing smile. "You should. I'm a very wise woman. I think you would have felt real guilty about sending him to prison, once you thought about it."

He quickly reversed their positions and gazed down into those sapphire eyes that never failed to mesmerize him if he looked too long. Matt was ready to move onto exploring the physical charms of his alluring woman, but the look in her eyes told him she still had her mind on other things. He gave a deep sigh of resignation. "All right, what else do we need to talk about?"

"Well, what about Cass?"

Matt's expression darkened, and he pulled away from Kitty, making certain to avoid her eyes. He supported himself with his elbow, but kept one arm draped around her waist. "Kitty, Cass is plenty old enough to know better. He's a father. His actions endangered you, his own sons, and me. He should have known better, and somebody has to pay." He fixed Kitty with a determined glare hoping that would dissuade her from trying to change his mind, fully certain that this was one staring battle he would win. Just for emphasis, he repeated it one more time. "He should have known better."

"Matt, don't you think he's paid enough? And he's sorry. It isn't like prison is going to make him a better man. And I am pretty sure he doesn't need to be locked up to protect the citizens of Kansas. You're the only one he wanted to hurt." She shivered as she thought of how badly he had been hurt and how close she had come to losing him. She dropped her eyes. "I think he's over that."

"Look, Kitty, in case you didn't notice, I didn't make it to Hays with Floyd Dunbart. Judge Brooking knows at least that. I was shot—twice—beat up, kicked, shackled with my own handcuffs, and prevented from doing my job. Even worse, they tried to ransom me off, and that involved you. You seem to keep forgetting that you almost died. Do you have any idea what it would have done to me, to lose you? Someone has to pay."

She reached up and put her fingers to his lips. "Of course, I know what that would have done to you, because it would have done the same thing to me if I had lost you. I just don't know why you can't understand that."

"I do understand, Kitty, really, I do. It's just that it's different." He knew he couldn't explain to her how it was different, but it was. She was precious, beautiful, irreplaceable. She was his heart, and a man couldn't live without his heart. He was nothing but a cow town marshal with a short life expectancy and an awful lot of dead men on his conscience. He wasn't worthy of her. Didn't really have anything to offer her except his love. He knew she could do better. No sense in trying to explain that though. She would never understand, and, as long as he was breathing, he wasn't sure he wanted her to understand. It was selfish, but he didn't want to be replaced.

"It isn't different, Matt, but I'm not going to argue that with you. Do you really want to charge Cass with all those things when it was all really Floyd?"

"Kitty, if Cass hadn't showed up with his two boys, I would have made it to Hays with no problem, and none of that would have happened. There would have been no ransom note, and you would have been safe in Dodge. I already told you, I'm not going to charge him with trying to kill me. Seems to me, that's enough leniency."

As far as Kitty was concerned, it was way more than enough leniency, but Kitty knew this man, and she knew sending Cass to prison for a long time, or even worse, hanging him, would hurt Matt. She wriggled free of Matt and reclined against the pillows, her arms crossed under her naked breasts. Matt found it a very disconcerting pose and was barely able to think straight. "I know that, Matt. But just listen a minute."

Matt thought he'd been doing way too much listening and was much more in the mood for action, but he could see that he was going to have to listen first. "I'm listening."

"I know how you feel about the war now. You never told me anything about it till all this happened and I want you to know I'm glad about you sharing that experience with me. I can see its part of who you are. Matt, the war hurt you, and it hurt Floyd and his family. Your lives intersected for a few brief hours on that battlefield in Tennessee, and Floyd somehow fixated on you and made you a part of his sickness. Everything that happened to you, me, Cass, Agnes, Caleb, Jeb, Harold, and Floyd happened because of that war."

"Kitty…"

"No, Matt. Just listen. In the waning months of that war, a young man was so terrified that he ran away and left his little brother to die. Imagine what that did to him. His mind just broke, and he made up a fiction that wasn't true to shield himself from the awful truth of it. The truth of the moment, and the guilt of the lie destroyed him. If he had helped you, maybe Harold would have lived. You were the man Floyd wanted to be, and he hated you for it. You know he heard his brother begging him for help every day of his sorry life. Somehow, I can't imagine you ever doing anything like that. You're the bravest man I know, but surely you've been afraid. Try to imagine giving into that fear just once."

Matt compressed his lips into a thin line. "Now look Kitty. There's no way you're going to make me feel sorry for Floyd."

"I already have, Matt. I see it in your eyes."

Matt swallowed. "What's this got to do with Cass?"

"Matt, this whole thing was just part of that awful war. It took Harold from Cass, destroyed Floyd, and, in the end, even killed his wife. You know how you would feel if you lost me. This is your chance to keep the war from collecting another casualty."

Matt turned away from her and fixed his eyes on the window. "What do you want me to do?"

"I know you can't just let Cass go. But could you charge him with as little as possible? Try to forget about me getting shot. That was Floyd. Just charge him with trying to get Floyd away, interfering with the law, or whatever you call it." She reached up, cupped his cheek with her palm, and pulled him back to face her. "And, Matt, think about speaking to Judge Brooking on his behalf. I won't ask you to do that, but I'm asking you to think about it."

Matt lay back against the pillow and pulled her close to him. "I'll charge him with as little as possible and I'll think about speaking for him, but I'm not making any promises about that. I don't know how you got so smart and wise. I know Cass and his sons are good men. I even know that Cass just got caught up in Floyd's delusions and lies, but I can't get past almost losing you because of it." He gave her his best poor little boy look. "Do you think maybe now we could get back to what we were doing?"

"Well, Cowboy, I'm here and you're here, and I don't have anything else to talk about, so maybe we could think of something else to do besides talking."

Matt grinned and pulled this amazing woman tight against his chest and held her there for long minutes as he focused on the feel of her heart beating next to his. He never tired of that feeling. Then he gently kissed her and slowly immersed himself in showing her how much he loved her. In moments, they were again lost in one another as fingers explored, lips met, and they lost themselves in the gentle cadence of love.

" _The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong._ _"_

Mahatma Gandhi, All Men are Brothers: Autobiographical Reflections

To be continued…


	28. Chapter 28

_I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice._

Abraham Lincoln

Chapter 28: Hard on the Outside

When Matt left the safety of Kitty's arms the next morning, his step was lighter and his mind clearer. A night with Kitty always made his day seem brighter, but there was more to it. He had been burdened with what to do with his prisoners, and she had helped him see through the quagmire that had become for him. Maybe they didn't deserve the leniency she advocated, but he was glad she had helped him see that it was the right thing for him to do.

The war would always be heavy on his conscience. No matter what, the killing would have been a weight for him to carry, but the choices he made had not been easy. He knew the only decision he could make was to fight for the Union because that is where is beliefs were, but it had been hard to fight against the South, against Texas, his home, his people. He would never understand the men who chose to lead the South into a war they could almost certainly not win. They should have listened to men like Sam Houston, should have been smart enough to see what was wrong and what was right, to see the future. Like he told Kitty, the deciding had been easy, but the doing had been hard and the emotional cost high. The war alienated him from his roots. He didn't even think of himself as a Texan anymore. It was like he stopped being a Texan the day he put that blue uniform on. And now, he was a Kansas lawman.

Seeing those boys, during the war, wearing tattered gray and butternut rags, with no shoes, poorly armed, and with not enough ammunition had hurt him. He remembered the accusation in Shug's eyes when he saw him standing there in his blue uniform with that fancy Spencer carbine. He knew he had done what he had to, done what was right for him, but it still hurt him to fight against Texas.

At least this would be one Texas family that he wouldn't be responsible for destroying. It wasn't a lot, but it was something, and he was grateful to Kitty for helping him clarify his muddled thoughts. At least he wouldn't be carrying the weight of their destruction. It was hard for him to forgive them for involving Kitty, and the lawman in him didn't bend easy, but even a lawman wasn't all bone. He still wasn't certain what he would do about Cass, but he felt good about Jeb and Caleb.

He went from Kitty's straight over to Doc's office and let Caleb know that he wouldn't be putting any charges on him. Lucky he remembered to put that sling on before he headed over. Doc was there. He didn't think Caleb really understood the possible ramifications of his part in freeing Floyd. Between getting shot and his youth, he probably hadn't really had time to think about it, but now, when Matt told him he wouldn't be filing charges against him, he could see it set the boy to thinking.

"I thank you for that, Marshal. And I'm real sorry for my part in what was done to ya. I know better and I'm ashamed." He met Matt's eyes and asked, "What about Jeb and my Pa?"

"Your Pa is going to have to face charges. But I'm not going to charge Jeb with anything. I'm heading over to the jail now to let him go."

Caleb smiled, his happiness at that news brightening his whole demeanor. "I'm real glad about Jeb, Marshal. He never wanted to come to Kansas at all. He told Pa that Floyd couldn't be saved, that he needed to pay for whatever he did. But Pa had a real soft spot for Floyd, tried so hard to protect him. Jeb said Pa was blind when it came to Floyd. They had some pretty harsh words. When Jeb couldn't make Pa see reason, he didn't see he had any choice but to come. You know Jeb's got a wife and baby daughter. It hurt him to leave them. You letting me and Jeb go like this is gonna mean everything to them."

Matt pursed his lips. "Mmhmm. Well, I've got to go now, Caleb. I'm glad your feeling better." Then he started out, paused at the door and turned back. "Caleb, I thank you for helping me out there." Then he walked out and closed the door behind him.

Doc was standing in the outer room as Matt left Caleb. He put his hand on his arm, gave a slight nod of his head, and looked him in the eye. "You know, son, I think you made the right decision with Caleb… and probably Jeb too. Caleb's a fine young man, he just got caught up in something real bad."

He would never admit it, but it gave Matt a warm feeling when Doc called him son, filled a void somewhere deep in him. He smiled. "I know that Doc. Kitty helped me some with my thinking."

Doc kinda squinted back at him, ticked his head and scrubbed at his mustache. "Yeah, I'd sort of like to talk to you about Kitty one of these days, Matt."

Matt had a feeling he knew what Doc wanted to talk to him about and was glad it was a conversation for another day, cause he sure didn't know how that was going to go. The one thing he did know was that he wasn't giving her up, no matter what. "Sure, Doc, but I'm heading over to the jail now. See ya later."

XXXXXXXXXX

Cass was surprised when the Marshal came back into the cell area. He hadn't seen him since Chester locked them up, but Chester had let them know the Judge was coming today. He didn't know if they hadn't seen the Marshal because he was recovering, or he just didn't want to see them. He had to figure the man would be looking forward to seeing him and his boys go to jail for a good long time, maybe even looking forward to hanging them. He stood and asked, "Is it time, Marshal?"

The Marshal's face was impassive as he answered. "No, Judge Brooking will be here in a couple of hours. The trial is set for three." Then he paused, and Cass thought he saw a small smile flicker across the Marshal's face, but figured he must have imagined it. Then the lawman continued, "I've come to let Jeb loose. I don't think there are any charges that really apply to him. Soon as Caleb's up to it, they can go home. Doc figures that will be another week."

Cass could feel a look of shock and amazement steal across his face. He stepped back from the bars. His legs wouldn't support him, and he dropped down to sit on the edge of the cot, dropping his head into his hands. His eyes filled with tears. After a moment, he lifted his head, the tears falling. "I can never thank you enough for this, Marshal. I'm willing to take whatever punishment the judge gives me, but my boys, oh God, my boys are going home." He stopped to rub the tears away. "Thank you, thank you. After the things we did to you, I don't rightly know how you come to that decision, but I'm grateful."

As Jeb walked out of the cell door Matt opened, there were tears in his eyes as well. "Pa, I been so worried about Sarah and little Lissa. I didn't know what was going to happen to them…without me." Then he sobered, wiped the tears from his eyes with his shirt sleeve. "But Pa, what about you? What do you think is gonna happen at that trial?"

"Don't worry about that Jeb. I'm glad to take my punishment. This all happened because of my choices. I brought this on us. You and Caleb are going to do fine." Class looked Jeb full in the face, smiled, and locked eyes with him. "And, if I get prison instead of hanging, you can write and tell me about the ranch and Lissa and everything."

"We will, Pa. You know that, and I'll be at the trial tomorrow." A look of concern wrinkled his brow. "We didn't kill nobody. Surely they won't hang ya."

"I dunno son. I done plenty bad, so I'll take whatever the judge says. You go on now, breathe some free air."

Matt left the jail more certain than ever that he had made the right decision. Now he needed to prepare for the trial and meet the stage the Judge would be on.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Not long after Matt left Doc's office, Jeb showed up and knocked at the door. Doc was expecting him, figured this was the first place Jeb would come once Matt released him. He pointed the way to Caleb in the next room.

He could hear them talking. He was glad to hear they were grateful to Matt, understood how fortunate they were that the tough, laconic lawman had somehow decided to let them go. They were surprised he hadn't done his best to send them to prison for a very long time. They figured they owed him a lot for that.

Doc had smiled as he listened from the outer room. They most definitely owed Matt a lot and Kitty too. There was no question those young men probably deserved some prison time, but it sure wouldn't have done them any good. He was glad Matt chose to let them go. He knew all about that compassionate core Matt thought he kept so expertly buried under his hard façade. He just never was quite sure whether, as a lawman, it was Matt's strength or his weakness.

Caleb and Jeb's conversation soon switched to their Pa and what was going to happen to him. Jeb wanted Caleb to be prepared for whatever happened, to understand their Pa was looking at serious trouble.

"Caleb, Pa thinks he might hang for what was done to the Marshal and all."

"Hang? We didn't kill nobody, Jeb."

"No, we didn't kill nobody, and I hope that means the Judge won't see a need for a hanging. But Floyd and us done a lot. We shot a U.S. Marshal …twice and told him we were gonna kill him. Murder him in cold blood really. We treated him real bad. We tried to collect a ransom on him. Then we went and kidnapped that woman. And don't forget, we shot her too."

"But Jeb, Floyd did most of that."

"Yeah, I know Caleb. I had some time to think on this while I was sitting over in the jail worrying about my Sarah and Lissa. If it wasn't for us, that Marshal would have taken Floyd to Hays, and he woulda never had a chance to do all that. It kinda makes it all our fault, and Pa is gonna carry all the blame."

"Gosh, Jeb. I never thought of it like that. You saying it out like that makes me even more thankful to the Marshal. You know, Jeb, that Marshal thanked me for helping him out there. But somehow, it didn't make me feel good about myself. We treated him so bad. And now hearin you say all that, I feel real small."

Caleb was silent for a few long moments. "You know, he almost killed me, back in that cave. He pushed me up against the cave wall, had the chain from his handcuffs squeezed up against my throat. I couldn't breath, knew I was dying. We was eye to eye, and I saw it in his eyes when he decided to let me go, and in return, I cost him a lot of pain and his freedom. I was thinking on it, wondering why, and I finally figured it out. It's cause he just don't like killin. We were terrible wrong about him."

"Yeah, we were, and we ain't never gonna be able to make that right. But Caleb, the Marshal must have seen something in you that he wanted to save. He might not like killing, but I figure he knows it has to be done sometimes. Anyway, Caleb, I wanted you to know how things were so you'd be prepared. Pa's trial is this afternoon. I'm gonna be there of course."

"Jeb, I need to be there, too."

"I dunno, Caleb. I'd sure like you there with me, but you think you're up to it."

"Yeah, just get me my clothes. I can make it if you'll help me some."

Doc wasn't exactly pleased by that last development, but he understood the boy's need to be there. As long as he took it easy, and Jeb helped him, Doc figured Caleb would be fine, not that he'd be giving them his approval. He was kind of curious about what Caleb said about Matt not killing him, but he doubted he would ever hear that story. Matt was mighty close-mouthed most of the time.

To be continued…


	29. Chapter 29

" _Lawmen aren't all bone."_

" _A lawman's got feelings..."_

Matt Dillon in Gunsmoke: Gone Straight, Season 2 Episode 20; Directed by Ted Post, Written by John Meston, Screenplay by Les Crutchfield.

Chapter 29: Lawmen Aren't All Bone

Judge Brooking arrived on the afternoon stage, and, as was expected of him, Matt met the stage and briefed him on the charges, well charge, he planned to put on Cass Dunbart. The judge had voiced his concern that simply charging Cass with aiding in the escape of a prisoner didn't seem strong enough. He could see by looking at him that the Marshal had been hurt and hurt bad. There was the sling, the bruises, cuts, and abrasions on his face, his stitched up brow, and the careful way he moved. He knew there should be charges of assaulting a U.S. Marshal and maybe others. Matt was being evasive, and that was unusual for the usually straight-speaking lawman, but he was insistent that he didn't really think any other charges were appropriate.

The judge asked if their had been accomplices. Matt told him there had been, but they were young, had acted under the influence of their father and had not really been actively involved in freeing his prisoner and preventing him from getting to Hays on time.

The judge still had reservations. "Matt, I can see by looking at you that these people did some damage to you. You recall that I was presiding in the courtroom when Floyd Dunbart threatened to kill you and accused you of being a traitor. Now I want some clarification on this issue. If the father and brothers are anything like him, society would be well-served by putting at least the father in prison for a good long time… and, from what I see, he deserves it."

"Judge, I can promise you, they are nothing like him. They did free Floyd, and I guess that means they share some blame, but Floyd was responsible for most of the injury that was done to me, and he's dead. I was forced to kill him or be killed. He was sick in his head, and he blamed me for some things that happened in the war. I was a Texan in the Union army, and he was a Texan in the Confederate army. The details of that don't matter any more; the war's over now."

"So what kind of man is this Cass Dunbart?"

"He's a good man, Judge, a good father, and his sons are good men. He loves his family, and he regrets what he did. I don't see that any good could come out of him going to prison for a long time, so I'm hoping that you'll see fit to accept the charge I suggested."

Matt paused, thought about the war, what Kitty had said to him, and Cass sitting in his jail cell so grateful his sons were going free, willing to take his punishment for the wrong that was done. He took a deep breath and expelled it. "Judge, I'd also like to ask you to be lenient in the sentencing. I'm asking you to be lenient because of extenuating circumstances. He has waived his right to a jury trial and will accept your judgment and sentence."

"Matt, you know I think highly of you as a man, and I know you're a fine lawman. I do find your request unusual, but I also respect your judgment. What kind of extenuating circumstances do you see here? Seems to me he's guilty of the charge and a lot more."

"It's complicated, Judge, but it all goes back to the war. Cass had misunderstandings and, despite everything that happened, it just wouldn't set right with me to see his life ruined."

The Judge took his own deep breath and searched Matt's face. "All right, Matt. I am going to go with your request for the simple charge of aiding in the escape of a prisoner. I hope you aren't making a mistake on this. As to being lenient in the sentencing, I'll make that decision after I hear the man out. I'll see you in court."

Matt exhaled a long breath. He knew he'd done what he could. "Thank you, Judge."

XXXXXXXXXX

At 2:30, Doc headed over to the courtroom. He was curious as to how this was all gonna end up, and he wanted to keep an eye on Caleb. This was going to be a stress on the boy's recovery. He sure didn't think Cass would hang, but the law was a funny thing. And thinking back to the shape Matt and Kitty had been in, and what those men put the two of them through, and thinking about Buck coming into town with all that blood on his saddle, well just maybe Cass did deserve hanging.

He wasn't surprised to see Kitty also walking towards the makeshift courtroom. He called out to her, and she turned. "Hi, Doc, you going to the trial?"

"Yeah, I wanted to see this to the conclusion. Did Matt ask you to testify about the ransom note and all?"

Kitty smiled and shook her head. "No, he didn't think that was necessary. He thought the case was pretty straightforward. But I guess I kind of wanted to see it through to the end too."

"Hmph, he didn't ask me to testify either. I guess he thinks he has plenty of evidence to put Cass away for a good long time."

Doc escorted Kitty into the courtroom and they took a seat over on the far right where they would have a good view.

Not long after they were seated, Jeb and Caleb came in and sat behind the defendant's table. Doc figured they wanted to be close by to give their Pa support.

At 2:45, Matt escorted Cass into the courtroom. He seated Cass at the table for the defendant directly in front of Caleb and Jeb and took a seat next to him.

Doc saw Matt's eyes track across the courtroom, assessing for any potential danger. Saw his eyes pause, first on Kitty and then him, acknowledge their presence, and then continue across the room. Doc figured looking for danger was just a way of life for the man. At least he didn't figure there would be any shouted threats against Matt's life today, and he was glad of that.

The courtroom was nearly empty except for a few curious townsmen and, of course, Jeb and Caleb. Doc noted that Caleb was pale, but that Jeb was looking out for him.

Doc hoped the outcome would be positive for this family.

The last minutes ticked by, and the Judge entered at precisely three. After the usual formalities, Matt was asked about the charges against the prisoner, and he stood and said, "Aiding in the escape of a prisoner."

Doc's eyebrow went up and he looked at Kitty, perplexed. Surely that wasn't the only charge? Kitty met his raised eyebrow with one of her own, but where his expressed confusion hers seemed to be daring him to find some fault with the charge. Then she shifted her gaze to Matt, and Doc watched her give him a stunning smile. He was surprised Matt didn't melt on the spot. He remembered Matt saying that Kitty had helped him "some" with his thinking. He was beginning to think she had helped him a whole lot with his thinking.

Doc also checked out how the Dunbarts were responding to the charge. Cass just looked confused. But Doc could see that Jeb understood that the charge was a lot less than expected, saw the look of hope as he whispered something in Caleb's ear, and Caleb nodded.

The Judge requested that Cass stand and asked him if he had anything to say in his defense.

Cass met the Judges gaze evenly. "I have no defense, Judge. I made a mistake in getting my son loose from the Marshal here. I wrongly believed the Marshal had done some terrible things." He inclined his head towards Matt. "My boy treated him cruelly, and I allowed it. In the end, the Marshal had to kill my son Floyd to save himself and Miss Russell."

Doc heard Kitty's slight intake of breath, saw Matt wince and a brief look of confusion pass over the Judges face. So Matt hadn't mentioned the ransom and Kitty's part in this to the Judge. That surprised him a lot. Matt was mighty protective of Kitty, and Doc figured that, above all, Matt would want them to pay for what they did to her. He sure was glad he hadn't missed any of this. He was gonna have some questions for Matt when this was over. For now he pulled his attention back to Cass.

"I know that the Floyd I knew died in the war; the Marshal here just put an end to his suffering. Despite what I done, Marshal Dillon treated me and my boys with respect and mercy. I accept whatever punishment you see as fit, Judge."

The Judge carefully scrutinized the defendant and his two sons and then turned and locked gazes with the Marshal. There was a long pause and a deep sigh before he finally looked back at Cass and delivered his verdict. "Cass Dunbart, I find you guilty of the charge of Aiding in the Escape of a Prisoner and sentence you to five years at hard labor in prison."

Doc saw Kitty purse her lips, her complete focus on Matt, almost as if she was trying to read his thoughts. Doc shifted his gaze to the Dunbarts, saw Cass sigh in relief, saw Jeb and Caleb smile and nod to one another.

The Judge paused, caught Matt's eyes one last time, then continued. "Marshal Dillon has asked for leniency in sentencing, and, in consideration of that request, I am suspending the prison term. Cass Dunbart, you will serve a probationary period of five years on your ranch in Texas. Should you break the rules of your probation, Marshal Dillon will be dispatched to return you to Kansas where you will serve out your full sentence in prison."

This time both Doc's eyebrows went up and nearly disappeared into his hairline. He wasn't sure whether that overgrown civil servant had a soft heart or was just soft in the head. He looked over at Kitty and saw she was not only happy with the outcome but seemed to expect it.

Cass collapsed into his chair, a dazed look on his face, and both Jeb and Caleb stood and moved to stand next to him, their faces a mixture of happy confusion.

Doc saw Matt glance towards Kitty, watched as he briefly nodded in her direction as a ghost of a smile momentarily graced his features. Then he returned his attention to the courtroom, his Marshal's countenance firmly in place.

Kitty could feel the pride in the man she had chosen as hers. Matt could be hard and unyielding, but she knew with a little help, his heart would show him the right thing to do. Matt suffered and almost died at the hands of this family, but he was willing to overlook what they did to him. He just couldn't move past what happened to her, and she had not wanted him to destroy this family because of her.

She knew it would have hurt him, been one more burden he carried. She watched him now, could see he was happy with how things had turned out and just a little bit embarrassed with all the attention and effusive thanks he was receiving. She didn't think a woman could love a man more than she loved Matt Dillon, but, each day, she loved him more.

As Doc stood and shifted his eyes towards Kitty, he saw a look that spoke of a deep and unbreakable bond between her and the lawman. It looked like it might be too late for him to have that talk with Matt.

He offered his arm to Kitty, and the two friends started to leave but paused to watch and listen. It wasn't often a court case ended with happiness for everyone. Doc had to admit that he was pleased with the way things turned out, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to have a little fun with a certain soft-hearted Marshal.

Jeb and Caleb turned their attention to Matt and were shaking his hand and thanking him over and over. Cass still didn't seem to have processed that he would be going back to Texas with his sons, that the man he once thought a monster had given him a second chance at life.

Jeb turned from thanking the Marshal, helped his Pa to his feet. "Pa, didn't ya hear that? The Judge said you can come home with Caleb and me."

"You sure about that, Jeb? I thought he said five years in prison. I was sure it would be a lot more. I can do that."

"No Pa, he said you didn't have to go to prison. You can come home as long as you don't get in any more trouble. The Marshal spoke for you."

Cass turned his attention to Matt. "Is what Jeb says true, Marshal? I can go home?"

"Yup, It's true Cass. You can go home. I am sorry about Harold. The war hurt a lot of people. But it's time to try to move on." Matt nodded towards Kitty. "Miss Russell reminded me of that."

"Cass locked gazes with the lawman. "I won't ever forget what you did for me and mine. I know I can't ever repay ya, but if you ever have need of anything I have, it's yours."

Matt nodded in acknowledgment, looked to Jeb and Caleb. "You go on now. Take your Pa, and get back to your lives."

As Cass and his two sons walked out of the courtroom as free men, Kitty gave Matt a beaming smile, and he couldn't help thinking that the Dunbarts had a happy ending to their day and, if Kitty's smile was any indication, it looked like his day was going to have a happy ending too.

Matt smiled to himself. As a U.S. Marshal, he didn't see a lot of happy endings, so he savored the ones he got. At least he knew he did his best to help this family move on… thanks to Kitty helping him sort things out in his head. He sure was a lucky man to have a woman like her love him.

To be continued…


	30. Chapter 30

" _Well,"_ _…what I like best," and then he had to stop and think. Because although eating honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called."_

A.A. Milne

Chapter 30: Summer Sky and Winter Night

Matt, a pensive expression on his face, stood watching as Cass and his family exited the makeshift courtroom and headed towards the Dodge House. The Dunbarts now had the rest of their lives in front of them, and Matt couldn't help but think how fortunate they all were to still be here. It would be a long time before he would be able to come to grips with Kitty kneeling on that cave floor, derringer in hand and blood staining her shirt.

Kitty and Doc joined Matt near the front of the courtroom. Kitty put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Is everything okay?"

Matt pulled himself back to the present and focused his gaze on a healthy, smiling Kitty. "Yup, Kitty, everything is just fine."

Doc, with a glint in his eye, fixed his gaze on Matt and moved in on the lawman like a snake stalking his prey. "I'm real glad to hear that everything is just fine. But, I have to say, Matt, I was kind of wondering how you decided on that specific charge?" ''Aiding in the escape of a prisoner is what I think I heard?"

Matt could see the ill-concealed glee on Doc's face and figured he'd just have to do the best he could to get out of this with his dignity intact. "Yeah, you heard right, Doc. Something bothering ya, is there?"

"Oh, no, nothing's bothering me. I was just wondering how you picked that charge. I mean you had so many to pick from, attempted murder, assaulting a federal officer, kidnapping…just to name a few."

Matt couldn't think of anything real intelligent to say so he went with tried and true noncommittal semi-agreement. "Mmmhmm."

Not willing to let the lawman off the hook that easily, Doc gave Matt a slightly predatory smile. "It seems to me you were just kind of unreasonable picking that one."

Matt, his lawman's countenance firmly in place, locked his gaze on the good doctor. It was a look that could make hardened criminals cringe. "You thinking of taking up the law and giving up doctor'n are ya?"

Doc seemed quite oblivious to the withering glare. "Oh, no, Matt. I'm just a country doctor. I'm not a lawyer, or a marshal, or anything like that. And, it's not like anyone got hurt or nearly died out there on the prairie, is it? I suppose that's the reason you asked the Judge to be lenient, isn't it, to kind of make up for choosing such a, well a harsh charge." Doc was really struggling to keep the grin off his face and was completely failing to keep the merriment from showing in his eyes as he pushed the taciturn lawman just a little farther. "Yes sir, you're a hard man, Matt Dillon. Even for a U.S. Marshal, you're just an awful hard man."

Matt pulled his lips together in a tight line and gave Doc a disapproving look. "Now, Doc, how about you take care of the doctorin around here, and I'll see to enforcing the law?"

"Well Mr. Marshal, how about the next time you get yourself shot, you find your own way back to Dodge? Don't expect me to hunt all over the prairie for ya."

Kitty grinned at the two of them. Some things never changed. "C'mon, Doc. How about I buy you and Matt a beer?"

The three friends were heading to the Long Branch when they saw the Judge still at the front of the makeshift courtroom removing his robe and gathering the accessories to his position. Kitty was quick to extend her invitation to him as well. "Judge Brooking, we were just heading over to the Long Branch. Would you like to join us?"

The Judge looked up from his packing. "Why thank you, Miss Russell, It would be my pleasure. I'll stop by my hotel room and drop off my belongings, then come over and join you."

XXXXXXXXXX

It wasn't long before the four of them were seated at the table towards the back of the Long Branch. Matt couldn't help but think it sure was good to be home. The mood was light and they all enjoyed the beer and the friendship.

As he finished up his beer, the Judge turned to Doc, "Galen, do you have any interest in a few games of checkers before I call it a night?"

"Well Judge, I thought you'd never ask. Seems to me the last time you were in town, you beat me three games to one. I'm feeling like I might be able to even that up tonight."

The Judge turned to Matt. "Marshal, before I go, I just have one question for you. How was it that Miss Russell was involved in this terrible thing with the Dunbarts? Cass Dunbart mentioned you had to shoot Floyd Dunbart to save the lives of both you and Miss Russell here? I mean what exactly was Miss Russell's role in all this?"

Doc leaned back in his chair and just barely suppressed the grin that wanted to break out on his face. He was gonna enjoy Matt answering that question. He surely was.

Matt wrinkled his brow and pursed his lips as he tried to formulate an answer to a very problematic question. Ever since Cass mentioned Kitty, Matt had it in his mind that the Judge might get around to wondering about that, but for the life of him, he couldn't come up with any sort of reasonable response. It was kind of cowardly, but he pretty much decided he would claim ignorance because of that concussion Doc said he had. Maybe he could just let Kitty explain what happened. Yeah, that was the answer. Judge Brooking was real partial to Kitty. He just barely squashed a grin as he thought to himself, and she's real good at making stuff up, and he was a U.S. Marshal. He sure couldn't mislead a federal judge. "You know Judge, I didn't mention this earlier, but Doc here told me I had a pretty serious concussion." He looked to Doc for confirmation.

Doc nodded his head in agreement. "That's true Judge. Matt had a bad concussion. Why he woulda been real swimmy-headed."

Matt nodded his head. "Well, because of the concussion, I'm a little hazy on some of the details of those last few hours with Floyd. I do know he tried to shoot Kitty, uh, Miss Russell and me." He paused. "But I don't exactly recollect how Kitty came to be there with me. I mean she wasn't there and then, all of a sudden, she was. It almost felt like a dream. Maybe she could explain?"

The Judge turned his attention to Kitty. "Well, Miss Russell, could you shed some light on this mystery?"

The glare Kitty aimed at Matt turned into a dazzling smile when the Judge turned her way. "There isn't really much to tell. I went looking for the Marshal because I was worried." She looked over at Doc. "We were all worried because we got a telegram telling us that Matt, the Marshal, hadn't arrived in Hays. Well, Chester actually got the telegram, …but he told us what it said. …And we were all worried, right Doc?" She looked towards Doc, nodding her head affirmatively to make sure he understood what the right answer was.

Doc nodded his agreement. "We sure were. It isn't like Matt to be late delivering a prisoner."

Kitty picked up her narrative. "Like I said, I went riding out on the prairie looking for Matt, …because I was worried. I didn't really expect to find him, but I just decided to go out, …riding on the prairie. Mostly, I just needed to get out of Dodge, to be doing something. And well, imagine my surprise when I found him, …out there, …on the prairie. It was just an amazing piece of luck." She gave the Judge another brilliant smile. "And uh, Floyd wanted to kill the Marshal. You recall, he said that at his trial."

The Judge nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, the man seemed quite demented."

"Somehow, when I found them all, out there, something I said set Floyd off. Floyd was um… kind of unstable, crazy even, demented…like you said. And he shot Caleb, …his own brother. Caleb dropped his gun… on the ground. Floyd was going to shoot me… and Matt. But Matt, he was a...," she glanced at Doc. "… A little 'swimmy-headed,' but he still managed to get Caleb's gun and use it to shoot Floyd before Floyd was able to kill me, …well both of us." Kitty looked over at the Judge again and gave him another radiant smile, widened her eyes, and nodded her head. "That's pretty much how it happened, as best as I can remember. It was kind of traumatic for me, so I might have it a little confused."

"That is really a remarkable story, Miss Russell, remarkable. I can't even imagine the odds against you finding Matt like that. I'm not really sure it was good luck though. I mean you were nearly killed. Thank goodness the Marshal was able to prevent that. If anything were to happen to you, it would be a terrible loss for Dodge."

"Yes, it would be," growled Matt. "Miss Russell really should take more care with her safety." Matt couldn't begin to imagine Dodge without the brightness and light Kitty brought to the dingy town.

"Yes, indeed, Marshal. I totally agree with you on that, but at least it all ended well. Well, it's getting late, Galen. Let's go and get started on those checker games." The Judge rose and Doc reluctantly followed. This had been most entertaining, and he was sorry to see it end. Both men wished Matt and Kitty a pleasant evening and headed for Doc's Office.

Kitty dropped her head back and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Thanks a lot, Matt. Do you think he believed a word I said?"

"Kitty, he would have believed anything you said sandwiched among those dazzling smiles you targeted him with. They're like weapons. And don't pretend you didn't know exactly what you were doing."

"Now Matt, that's just not true."

"Well, let me tell ya, Kitty. When you smile at a man like that, he pretty much loses his ability to reason, and the craziest things seem perfectly sensible."

Kitty shifted her chair a little closer to him so that they were knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder—well knee to thigh and shoulder to elbow. "Is that a fact?" She leaned in, captured his gaze and held it to ransom. "Well, Matt, did I ever tell you that your eyes are the color of a cloudless summer sky, and when you give a girl that full-on grin of yours, something deep inside her just melts."

Not breaking eye contact, Matt grinned that full-on grin, leaned even closer, whispering. "And did I ever tell you that your eyes are the color of the winter sky on a moonlit evening, all sprinkled with sparkling stars. A man can just lose himself in them. And, if you add a smile, your wish is his command."

"Well, I'm smiling Matt, and I'd like to see you…" she paused, still holding his eyes captive, as she deliberately rolled hers upward, towards her room at the top of the stairs, then slowly dropped them, his hopelessly ensnared and still following, "In something less than five minutes." She gracefully stood, freed him with a wink and headed up the stairs.

Matt blinked and shook his head, clearing the haze from his brain, grabbed his hat and, holding it in front of him, nodded to Sam at the bar, barreled through the saloon doors and ducked down the alley. Within seconds, not minutes, he climbed the stairs and let himself into Kitty's rooms and carefully locked the door behind him. He paused, dropped his hat and gun belt and pulled off his boots and socks.

Somehow in those brief moments, Kitty had already divested herself of her clothing, which blazed a trail starting at the door and ending at the bed. She stood, waiting, the flickering lamplight partially lighting her naked body, hinting at unseen mysteries still to be discovered. Barefoot, he slowly stalked her, one careful silent step at a time, let his eyes slowly drift downward from her flaming hair to her adorable toes caressing all the interesting places in between, taking the time to appreciate the exquisiteness of every inch of her form while reflecting on her inner beauty as well. He raised his eyes, locking them with hers as he savored the love for him that shone from within. He never stopped being amazed that she could love someone like him the way she did. Once again, he felt himself drowning in the fathomless depths of those incredible eyes. He swallowed and whispered one word, "Kitty."

Never breaking contact with his eyes, she slowly unbuttoned his shirt—one button at a time. Then slipped it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as she pulled it free. Then her fingers found his belt and released it, followed by the buttons on his pants. Her eyes still locked on his, she pushed his confining garments down over his hips, and he stepped free of them

Only now did she release his eyes as hers slowly and deliberately tracked down his body from his unruly dark curls, to his summer sky blue eyes, across the chiseled planes of his chest, over the hard evidence of his desire, and all the way down to his toes. No man affected her the way he did. She slowly brought her eyes back to again imprison his, saw the love and smoldering longing in them. She held him in thrall for a moment more, a moment to appreciate the sublime perfection of the anticipation. And then she smiled at him. All her other smiles paled in comparison to the one that was only for him.

He reached for her. "Kitty."

"Make love to me, Matt."

And he did.

" _I love you and I will until the end of time. And just as she said the words, two bright stars drifted past them overhead and disappeared into the night sky together…"_ Daniel Steel, Until the end of Time _  
_

The End

Vice President Stevenson at the dedication of the Chickamauga Battlefield as a National Park:

" _Here, in the dread tribunal of last resort, valor contended against valor. Here brave men struggled and died for the right as God gave them to see the right_."

Adlai E. Stevenson

I hope that those of you who read found pleasure in this story. I meant it to trace the early beginnings of a love affair between two mythic humans who were drawn to each other in a cowtown on the Kansas prairie and whose life stories have entertained us for over sixty years. It is of course only one scenario amongst nearly innumerable possibilities. It was my goal to trace their burgeoning relationship and the promises made as they first committed themselves one to the other. I then sought to provide a first shared adventure which would set the bedrock for that relationship. Lastly, I did my best to base the story on events within the episodes and stay true to canon to the extent I understand it.

I sincerely thank every reader who has made it this far. I appreciate you reading. I know it was a long story and a long ending. I especially appreciate those of you who took the time to provide reviews. I loved reading each and every comment. Each one is a learning experience for me. I have tried to individually thank all reviewers who are registered on the site and have enjoyed conversations with some of you via the personal messaging option. There is no forum for me to thank those of you who are not registered, but I assure you that I read and appreciated your comments as well. I encourage you to register on the site. It is a lot of fun to be able to interact with others who share your passion for the TV show that began so many years ago, before many of you were even born.

Thank you,

GunShy1


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